


1976

by NikiFrost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Swingtown
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, Drama, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Reincarnation, Romance, Sex, Smut, Swan Queen - Freeform, Swingers, lots of lesbians, second time around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikiFrost/pseuds/NikiFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swan Queen AU + Swingtown Crossover: When Queen Regina dies from childbirth, her wife Emma falls into a deep depression. Unable to bear staying in the Enchanted Forest, Emma gives the White Kingdom to her mother, Snow White, and takes a portal to another world with her infant son Henry. In Chicago, 1976, Trina Decker meets her new beautiful blonde neighbor and begins dreaming of strange memories from a past life…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those unaware, Lana starred as Trina Decker in "Swingtown" (2008.) It's an awesome show that I highly recommend if you haven't already seen it. Many thanks to skyscholar/lost-coin from Tumblr for the original prompt idea: "Regina dies in Storybrooke. Emma moves on and becomes police chief in Swingtown. Encountering Trina, Emma and Henry immediately perceive she is Regina. Trina is unaware, but with Emma's arrival, her dreams of Emma begin."
> 
> I made quite a few changes to account for Regina's reincarnation and the timeline difference, along with some fun AU alterations, but the general idea is about the same, and I'm very excited to explore where this goes. In the spirit of having familiar faces around, many characters in the Swingtown setting will be Storybrooke characters, and we'll simply pretend they aren't from the Enchanted Forest. I start off with the pilot episode of Swingtown but diverge from Trina's storyline with her husband, so for any Trina/Tom fans, I'm sorry, but this ends with Swan Queen. Apologies for any inaccuracies in this fic, my 70's research is minimum and I'm mostly writing this for fun. As always, I am eternally grateful for your kudos, bookmarks, and comments. Hope you enjoy. ;)

 

"You're going to wear through your boots if you keep pacing like that, my love." Regina held out her hands, fingers outstretched for her wife. After a long moment of regarding the very pregnant brunette laying reclined on a mountain of pillows, Emma sighed and relented, gracefully dropping to a knee next to the bed to grasp Regina's hands and press a kiss to her knuckles.

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"You've nothing to be worried about. I will be fine, our baby will be fine."

The blonde's brows gently furrowed together. "I know our baby will be fine, but you are weakening, Regina. The baby drains on your magic more with each day. And Doc said-"

"Nevermind the dwarf, dear," Regina said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Our child is powerful, but it's nothing I can't handle. One more week and you'll see."

"One more week and it will be the three of us?" Emma murmured, smiling softly, green eyes crinkling as she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. Regina automatically drew her into her arms, the blonde curling around her belly to fit together as closely as possible.

"Indeed. You, me, and little Henry or Ruth."

"I really hope it's a boy," said Emma, nuzzling her face into Regina's thick mane of dark hair. The brunette chuckled, silently hoping it was a boy too. She so dearly wanted to pass her father's name down to her own child.

"You would prefer a little prince to a princess?" she asked instead. Emma grinned bashfully.

"Well, I don't mind either way… I'm just not fond of the name 'Ruth'."

"Don't let your father hear you saying that," the brunette teased, her laughter swallowed off when her wife kissed her soundly on the lips. She closed her eyes and melted into the kiss, feeling warm hands slide onto her belly with soothing circular motions. Emma broke away only to pepper kisses down the brunette's throat and chest until her lips were brushing over the round bump of their child magically conceived by True Love.

"Hey, go easy on your mother for me, okay, little bean?" she whispered against her wife's stomach. "We love you very much, and we can't wait to meet you."

When she glanced back up, Regina's eyes were wet with unshed tears and her lips were spread in a beautiful smile. "I love you, Emma," she murmured, voice husky with emotion.

"I love you too, my Queen," the blonde husked, smiling against her belly. The tease earned her a little gasp and a smoldering look of desire before Regina was dragging her upwards by the collar of her tunic.

"Come here," the brunette growled, smothering her wife's laughter with another passionate, searing kiss that left them both lightheaded and breathlessly in love.

 

Three weeks.

That was how long it took for her to finally break.

 _"Emma, you have to be strong, sweetheart,"_ Snow had whispered every time she found her daughter crumpled up in her bedchambers sobbing so hard that she actually lost her voice, her eyes swollen and bloodshot, her knuckles shattered and bloodied from where she would strike out at the stone walls with every shriek of despair because _it just wasn't fair_.

 _"I know it hurts. I know,"_ Snow would whisper into her hair as she clung to her, her voice tight with pain. _"We miss her too, baby. We'll get through this together."_

 _"I can't,"_ Emma had sobbed, pressing her swollen eyes against her mother's shoulder. _"I can't, mother, I can't! I can't do this without her!"_

Snow had taken over as Queen shortly thereafter. The White Kingdom had been reeling from the loss of Queen Regina and did not fight the issue when it was announced that Emma was stepping down. How could they blame her? The two magical women were not only True Loves but also intimately tied together by their magic bond. It was whispered among the people - told first by a maid that had been present during the Queen's labour - that the moment Regina died after giving birth to prince Henry, Emma had screamed out in pure agony, as if her very soul had been torn in two. She was never quite the same after that moment, as if a part of her had been lost along with her wife.

 _"We are here for you,"_ Charming had whispered as he held her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her upright. _"Tell me what you need, Emma. Please. Let me help you."_

She'd resisted. Fought it. Thrashed against the urge to give up with everything left in her because she knew what Regina would have said. _You have to be strong now, for Henry,_ Regina's voice demanded in her mind, and sometimes it sounded so real and so tangible that she would snap her head up and look around wildly, half expecting to see her wife standing in front of her with a stern expression on her face.

But Regina remained nothing but a memory.

She tended to Henry, of course. He was all she had left of Regina, and what little feeling she had left within her, she gave to him in the form of love. She fed him and cleaned him and carried him everywhere with her, doing what she could whenever he exhibited magical symptoms, anywhere from catching him when he levitated out of his crib to putting out a fire caused by his crying fits. Regina had been right; he was powerful. So powerful and so very out of her league, in fact, that by the third week and the dozenth fire, Emma had gone to her parents with a single request for a magic bean.

 _"You're leaving us?"_ Snow had cried, clinging to her daughter's hand with the desperation of a woman who had lost a friend and was now going to lose her daughter and grandson as well. Charming had stood silent, tears slipping down his cheeks as he stared at the two most important women in his life embracing for what was possibly the last time.

 _"I can't stay here,"_ Emma had whispered. _"Henry is too powerful. I don't know how to teach him, how to show him control. It's not safe. And I- I can't-"_

Her voice cracked, and she'd stumbled into her father's waiting arms.

 _"You can't raise him here, in her home,"_ he'd finished for her. He understood, knew full well that Emma's heart broke every day that she lived in these familiar walls, but it didn't make it any less painful for him to accept. He just squeezed her harder, trying to memorize the feeling of his daughter in his arms, the smell of her hair, the exact shade of her green eyes.

 _"We love you, so- so much,"_ they'd whispered brokenly, the three of them clinging together for the final time. The departure was a private affair - the kingdom would not know that their former Queen and their prince had left the realm until the next day. Emma, clad in her father's cloak, held Henry, swaddled up in the warmest of fabrics. On her back was a bag her mother had filled with supplies, along with some of the finest jewellery and silks they owned, in hopes that it would secure her some form of currency in the new world.

As Charming stood ready with the magic bean in his hand, Snow approached her daughter once more, gently draping a cord necklace around her neck. Emma looked down to find a single bean in a tiny vial attached to the end.

"Come back to us one day - if you can," her mother breathed out, pressing a kiss to her temple. And then Charming threw the bean, clinging to his wife as they stepped back and watched their daughter and infant grandson disappear into the swirling vortex to a land without magic.

 

"It's all yours!" The agent beams a megawatt smile as he drops the keys into her hand. Emma manages a smile, though she's more focused on keeping a hold of Henry as he wriggles in her arms. He's three years old and is far too excited about moving into a new house, and she can't even blame him.

Their last place had been a small apartment in Boston, and it had been good for the first few years, up until some creep of a guy grew infatuated with the "pretty blonde single mother" who frequented the same coffee shop every other morning. Emma fielded him well enough but she hated the attention and didn't like the man anywhere near Henry. When his advances bordered on stalking, she finally bit the bullet and sold all the jewellery and silks her mother had tucked into her bag. Apparently such items from the Enchanted Forest were greatly cherished in this world, and she'd collected quite a generous sum. Combined with her income from police work - it was dumb luck that her combat experience and quick reflexes saved the life of a Boston police chief who immediately offered her a job - she'd easily packed up and left for Chicago.

Her superiors, highly impressed with her dedication and skill, were the ones to recommend her to the city council in Winnetka, Illinois. The council, in turn, put her in contact with a local real estate agent while simultaneously offering her the position of Chief of Police, their last one having recently retired. The agent found her a lovely little house that was well within her price range and only blocks away from a good local school, so the choice for Emma was obvious.

"So is the little tyke's father going to join you soon? Is he with the moving trucks? Coming from Boston, was it?"

"Uh- no, no," Emma mutters, a flicker of pain going through her eyes before she forces another smile. "No father in the picture. Everything of mine's in the car, so…"

She jerks a thumb in the direction of her yellow Bug, the backseat and trunk crammed full of crumpled boxes. His brows hit his hairline. She'd been very vague about herself and basically agreed to purchase the home outright, which was already a surprise - but a single mother, too? Was she unmarried, divorced, or widowed, he wondered? It just wasn't common.

"Oh. Well then. Moving in won't take long, will it?" he chuckles, trying for humor. Emma fakes a laugh. "Well, I won't keep you. Again, congratulations, ma'am. Hope you'll ring me for the housewarming party."

He smiles and gives a jovial little wink before striding off, packing up the "for sale" sign off the lawn and putting it in the trunk of his car.

"Wave bye-bye, Henry," Emma crows, bouncing him in her arms. He giggles and waves his chubby arms in the air. The agent beams and waves back, quickly ducking into his car as it begins to rain. Emma fumbles with the keyring in one hand while she holds Henry with the other, already grimacing as rain hits her bare shoulders. Of course it would rain while she was in a tanktop.

"Wain, mama!" Henry squeals, his face turned up towards the sky. Emma chuckles, giving up on the keys for a moment to press kisses to her son's chubby cheeks. His inability to make an 'R' sound is endlessly endearing.

"Rain indeed, kid," she murmurs, the modern term rolling off her tongue with ease. It's alarming sometimes, how easily she's adapted into this bizarre world with its slang and behavior and boggling machinery. Sometimes she imagines what her father's face might look like if she were ever to try describing what a vehicle was to him, or her mother's expression were she to introduce her to disco.

Sometimes she wishes desperately that her parents hadn't had a responsibility to the White Kingdom, so that they would have come with her instead.

"Mama," Henry says, breaking through her melancholy by patting her cheeks with his little hands. "You sad again. Finking of Gammy and Gampa?"

He can read her emotions too well, and he knows how much she misses her parents. She'd told him of his grandparents and of Regina as soon as he began having understandable conversations with her, wanting him to know about their family even if he would never get to meet them: his wonderful grandparents, who had supported her when she'd fallen for Regina, and his wonderful other mother, who had broken free of the Dark Kingdom and of Queen Cora to become the benevolent second Queen of the White Kingdom. She left out all the magical and fantastical details, of course - she didn't want him to get bullied by other children for what would sound like ridiculous stories - but he understood the gist of it.

"Yeah," Emma admits with a wry little laugh. "I think your Gammy and Grampa would've liked our new house."

"Mommy too," he agrees with a nod, his hair now flopping wetly into his eyes. He really needs a haircut. She also needs to teach him the difference between "dead" and "in another realm" because she's not sure she'll ever stop hurting every time he mentions his other mother as if she were simply absent. Emma pushes away the sting of sadness, instead blowing a raspberry against his cheek until he bursts out giggling again, happily mashing his nose against hers as they stand on their new porch, laughing in the rain.

 

The sex is good - it's always good - but as soon she comes down from her high, the pleasure fades quickly. Rolling away from her husband and their current playmate, Trina slides out of bed and pulls on her silk robe.

"Mm, I'm going to get a drink. Carry on," she purrs over her shoulder at the bed before stepping from the bedroom. Tom murmurs an acknowledgement from where his face is buried in the crook of their playmate's neck before returning his attention elsewhere. He'd brought home a ditzy young stewardess from his flight last night and, though the girl was a fun lay, she didn't provide much of substance when it came to pillow talk between rounds.

Retrieving a can of Hawaiian Punch from the fridge, Trina pads lazily into the living room, sipping at her drink while running her other hand through her short hair. She wanders towards the windows to peer outside as she rehydrates, deciding she'll have a talk with Tom once their guest is gone. They've almost never had problems with any of the playmates they've brought home to share before, but they're certainly not in their twenties anymore and Trina doesn't really love inviting a young stewardess into her home and bed. That was how she and Tom first met, after all. She'd been the young stewardess to seduce and then marry the handsome pilot those many years ago.

She's about to turn towards the couch when she notices the bright yellow car parked just across the street. Quirking a brow, her eyes trail towards the opposing house, one that's been empty for months after their last neighbor moved out. Standing on the porch is the real estate agent - whom she recognizes from his many attempts to sell the place - and a blonde woman with a young child in her arms. He gives her a set of keys, packs away the "for sale" sign, and cheerfully drives off with a beaming smile that could blind.

The house has finally sold, then, and it looks like her neighbor is a beauty.

"Hey, hon, I'm gonna give Tammy a ride home," Tom says, emerging from the bedroom, casually dressed in slacks and a polo shirt.

"Hmm?" Trina half-turns, momentarily confused, before remembering that the stewardess's name is Tammy. Right. Said stewardess shuffles out from behind Tom, once more dressed in her uniform, and smiles shyly in Trina's direction.

"It was really nice to, uh- to meet you, Mrs. Decker," Tammy says, blushing red as a tomato. She was less self conscious in bed. Now Trina has to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the embarrassed little waif. "You were really, um-"

"You too," Trina says, distracted, before turning back to the window. Tom pads over to his wife, leaving Tammy waiting awkwardly in the walkway.

"What's so interesting?" he asks, slinging an arm around her waist and peering over her shoulder out the window.

"Our new neighbors," Trina murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips. They watch the woman standing in the rain, peppering kisses on the child in her arms, their faces alight with smiles and laughter. Tom hums appreciatively in his throat.

"She's very attractive - and athletic, by the look of those biceps. Your favourite type, hmm?" He chuckles, the vibration gentle against her back. Trina leans back into his embrace with a smirk.

"Indeed."

 

The house comes furnished with the basics; bed, couch, a few tables and chairs. The kitchen is a little outdated but Emma doesn't really do fancy cooking or anything so she's not going to complain. She sets Henry down in the living room with the box of his toys, firmly telling him to stay put while she brings in the rest of their stuff. In no time at all, she's emptied the Bug of their boxes and is unpacking their meager belongings, mostly clothes and essentials, a box of books, a few picture frames and items of sentimental value. She hangs her father's cloak at the back of the closet and leaves her baby blanket at the end of the bed before heading back out to her son.

"What should we do for dinner, little man?"

"Pizza!" Henry shouts gleefully. That is certainly one thing this world has going for it: pizza. She grins in agreement and heads over to the phonebook on the little table in the hall, flipping through it until she locates a pizza place in town. Grabbing the phone off the wall, she punches in the number and then twirls the cord around her finger as it rings. A chipper teenager answers and takes her order with gusto, and their food arrives an hour later.

"Thanks, kid. Keep the change." She waves the pimply faced teenager off and retreats into the living room where Henry sits on the couch, bouncing his feet on the cushions in excitement. Dinner is a raucous affair consisting of flying pepperoni pieces and a ridiculous game of _The Price is Right_ on the little television the house came with. Henry takes a great amount of delight in guessing answers despite not really understanding half the questions, and Emma is happy to entertain his adamant arguments that the answer should have totally been _dinosaurs._

"Okay, definitely time for bed, kiddo," she finally says when she catches sight of the ugly floral clock on the wall. Henry's lower lip immediately juts out into a pout.

"But I'm not tired," he whines, despite the hilarious fact that his head is drooping like a baby animal resisting the urge to just pass out. Emma chuckles and stands, scooping him up into her arms with ease.

"Well alright, but let's go lie down quietly for a few minutes anyway, yeah?"

He snuggles in against her chest without complaint as she carries him into the master bedroom and gently sets him down on the queen sized mattress, tucking him in under the blankets. He's always been a cuddle-bug and tended to sleep in her bed back in the old apartment anyway, but this is their first night in the new house and she definitely doesn't want to sleep alone tonight.

"Comfy?" she asks, brushing his dark bangs away from his forehead. He mumbles something with his cheek smushed against the pillow and is snoring shortly thereafter. Chuckling under her breath, Emma quietly slips from the room to finish tidying up. The leftover pizza goes into the fridge and she turns the volume on the TV down low until it's just a quiet, pleasant hum of noise in the background.

Retrieving her handbag from the side table, she digs through it until she comes up with a scrap of paper, then goes to sit on the little table in the hall while she makes another call. She'd been told to call whenever, but it's seven in the evening and she hopes it's not considered impolite. She really doesn't want to burn any bridges on her first day in town.

"Hello?" a woman answers after the third ring, her voice rough and tomboyish.

"Uh, hi," Emma begins, clearing her throat. "I was told to call as soon as I was settled in? My name's Emma Swan. I'm the-"

"-new Chief of Police," the woman finishes with a bark of laughter. "Was wondering when I'd hear from you. Welcome to Winnetka, Chief. I'm your Deputy, Lilith Page. Everyone just calls me Lily, or Page."

"Thanks. Good to meet you, Deputy Page."

"You too. Settle in alright?"

"Yeah. We're pretty much unpacked. When can I come in?"

"How about you take tomorrow off, get a feel for the neighborhood, and come in Monday morning? Gives you time to get a babysitter in order. We've got tons of teenagers on a volunteer list if you need recommendations. Good kids."

"That'd be great."

Lily rattles off a few numbers for her and Emma scribbles them down on a scrap of paper, deciding she'll call them tomorrow and arrange a quick meeting before deciding on who to trust with her son.

"Good neighborhood from what I've seen so far," Emma says conversationally as she goes back to twisting the phone cord around her fingers.

"Yup. Good people. Not much to worry about, really. If anything, you'll mostly be dealing with noise complaints and peeping neighbors."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, lots of block parties around here. Just a few cranky old bats or whatnot who'll come crying to us about the fireworks or the music or the kids running around playing. And then there's the prudish ones who peer into neighbor's windows and complain about the swingers. It's no biggie, you'll eventually learn how to field them off."

Emma opens her mouth to ask what a swinger is, but is disrupted by a knock on the door. Confused as to who would visit at this hour, she says, "Hey, sorry, someone's at my door. Call you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Let me know if you need anything. Have a good evening, Chief."

Hanging up, Emma hurries to the door and unlocks it, curiosity overriding her good sense to peek through the peephole first. It might have saved her the embarrassment of what happened next.

The door swings open and she's greeted by two people standing on her porch. One, a handsome man dressed for an evening jog. The other, her dead wife.

"Regina?" she breathes out, feeling as if all the air has just been punched out of her lungs. She wonders if she's hallucinating, and she's just about ready to pass out when the couple smiles brightly, not having heard her breathless whisper.

"Evening!" the man greets, smiling a perfect row of pearly whites.

"Hi! I'm Trina Decker, this is my husband Tom. We live right across the street." Regina - Trina? - jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the much larger and more expensive house across the way before giving a brilliant, heart breaking smile. "We thought we'd personally welcome you to the neighborhood!"

Emma blinks rapidly. Her world feels like it's going in slow motion and super speed all at the same time. She's staring into the familiar brown eyes of her wife, her _dead wife,_ and it feels like her heart is going to explode in her chest from the shock and pain and joy all mixed together in a chaotic storm of _what the FUCK._

"I'm sorry, are you- are you okay?" the man - Tom - asks with a look of concern. Emma's turned sheet-white in front of them, her green eyes wide with what could probably be construed as terror. She realizes she's not breathing and quickly sucks in a rattled breath.

"S-sorry," Emma stutters, prying her hand off of the edge of the door where she'd been gripping it with a vengeance.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, dear," Regina says with equal concern, and Emma's heart is breaking all over again because it's her wife's speech pattern and her wife's _voice_ , the same voice she's been having imaginary conversations with in her mind for the past three years. It takes every bit of self control she has not to rush across the threshold and throw her arms around the brunette. That, or break down crying.

"Sorry," Emma says again, her voice faint. "You look like someone I used to know."

Regina's brow lifts up in that oh so familiar way and Emma wants to sob out loud. The brunette smiles again and offers up a bottle of champagne like a peace offering. "I hope you like Dom Pérignon," she says, voice gentle as if afraid of scaring Emma off. "Nothing better than alcohol to celebrate a housewarming, right?"

"Thank you," says Emma automatically, grabbing the bottle by the neck and avoiding skin contact like the plague. She's not sure she can survive touching her. Physical proof that Regina is here, alive and - well, _alive_ \- just might break her. Half of her wants to believe this is some insane dream or hallucination.

"We're just heading out for a run, but we'll be home in an hour. Would you and your husband like to join us at our place for a drink?"

The question sends Emma into another spiral of confusion and pain. She grabs onto the door with her free hand again, needing it for balance. "I don't- uh, I don't have a husband. I'm- I can't, I'm sorry. My son-"

Her words are a jumble of stutters and broken sentences, and she's still too shell shocked to feel embarrassed about it. Tom gives a sympathetic smile and comes to her aid.

"It's probably been a pretty hectic day for you," he offers kindly. "How about you come over tomorrow evening instead? We're hosting a party, it would be a great way for you to meet the neighborhood."

She wants to say yes and no at the same time. She wants to run away, and she also wants to run towards Regina, but this Regina is apparently Trina and Trina is married to Tom and nothing makes sense so all she manages to say is, "Sure."

"Great!" Tom beams. "We'll see you tomorrow then."

"We never did catch your name," Regina adds, already stretching out a hand. Emma releases the door and automatically reaches for her too, even though her mind is screaming at her to flee.

"Emma. Emma Swan." And then they're shaking hands and a tingling warmth spreads from where they're connected skin-against-skin and Emma thinks she might be having a heart attack, and for a second it looks like Regina just might too.

"Emma," she says somewhat breathlessly, before her features smooth out into a warm and welcoming smile. "Lovely to meet you. We'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

And then the Deckers are gone, and Emma shuts the door to sag against it with a ragged sob.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not endorsing the use of alcohol or drugs, nor the way Emma is coerced, but this takes place in the 70's and it's only a slight exaggeration of what happens in the pilot of Swingtown, so here we go. Hang in there, I promised Swan Queen would be endgame and I always keep my promises. :)

"Mama," Henry says at breakfast, sitting unusually still at the small dining table. Normally he would swing his legs, but this morning, he regards his mother with large eyes and a serious voice.

"Yes, Henry?" Emma asks, her face carefully blank. She'd spent most of last night crying in the garage where she wouldn't wake Henry, before finally crawling exhausted into bed and sleeping fitfully. She'd woken late to her tiny son attached to her like a baby koala, his expression one of concern. Somehow he was always privy to her emotions no matter how well she hid them.

Henry pushes his scrambled eggs around his plate, pouting. "Why you cwying last night?"

"I wasn't crying, sweetheart." Emma spears a sausage and shoves it in her mouth. Her son continues to regard her with sad eyes.

"I love you," he says softly, in an attempt to make her feel better. It works, and Emma smiles at him with only the slightest tremor of her lip.

"I love you too, little prince. Now eat your eggs." She wrinkles her nose at him and he scrunches up his face playfully before forking food into his mouth again.

They end up meeting with three different teenagers after breakfast before unanimously deciding on a sweet and overly polite girl named Grace. Henry thinks she's very pretty and Emma feels comfortable enough leaving Henry in her care, so they arrange for Grace to come over on Monday morning since it's summer and she has no school. With the babysitter issue solved for the rest of summer, Emma decides to take Henry out to see the town.

Driving has always cleared Emma's head - she finds it more relaxing than horseriding, really - but today it does absolutely nothing for her nerves. Emma rolls around the neighborhood in the Bug, trying to memorize some of the town's layout to very little success. At some point she drives by the police station, and Henry's immediate pointing and squealing convinces her to drop by. He's always loved meeting her fellow cops and she supposes it's not a bad idea for the local law enforcement to get to know him - "cop kids" are always beloved and fiercely protected by the force. Besides, she has questions, and perhaps Lily can help.

She parks the Bug in an empty stall and makes her way into the station with Henry scurrying along at her side, his tiny hand gripped in hers. Despite being a relatively small station with a smaller team of officers, it's still well equipped and clean, with a big desk in the entrance room and a bullpen beyond. Approaching the desk, Emma clears her throat, gaining the attention of the distracted brunette with her face in a novel.

"Excuse me; is Deputy Page in?"

The woman startles, blushing, then looks Emma over with a curious gaze. "Sorry. Yep, she's in. May I ask your name?"

"Emma Swan."

The woman's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh! Chief Swan? We weren't expecting you today. It's very nice to meet you! I'm officer Belle French; most days I'm the desk clerk and phone op."

"Nice to meet you, French." Emma smiles a little more genuinely, glad for the warm and easy welcoming thus far. She motions with her free hand at Henry. "This is my son Henry."

Belle stands and leans over the counter, her expression immediately turning to adoration when she finally spots the child. "Ooh! Lookit you! What a cutie! Hi there, Henry!"

"Hi," Henry chirps with a little wave. Belle nearly squeals.

"Can we come in?" Emma inquires, motioning towards the bullpen.

"Oh, of course! Come on in. I'll get the Deputy for you." Belle pops up and moves into the bullpen with them, shouting across the wide room, "Lily! Chief's here!"

To Emma's chagrin, that gets everyone else's attention, and the next thing she knows she's being swarmed and greeted and "welcomed into the family" by the rest of the officers. They're a pretty outgoing and charismatic group;  Ruby Lucas, August Booth, Neal Cassidy. Mulan Fa is quiet and serious, and she even meets the somewhat grumpy yet inappropriately humorous janitor, Leroy. When her own introductions are done, everyone proceeds to fawn over Henry.

"I think you're confused, Chief," a more familiar voice says. Emma turns and is greeted by a tough looking brunette with a shit-eating grin. "Today's Sunday, not Monday."

"Deputy Page?" She smiles and offers her hand. Lily Page grabs it and pulls her in for a one-armed hug and a smack on the back.

"Good to meet you, Swan. We've been needing a new Chief of Police. Old Glass up and retired without giving us enough time to figure out his replacement and let me tell you, us lot should  _ not  _ be allowed to act as a democracy."

The gathering of officers burst out laughing and Ruby actually reaches over to slap the Deputy on the arm. Emma's pretty sure she's never met a more relaxed and playful group of police officers before, and the disbelief is quite obvious on her face.

"You'll find that Winnetka's a pretty groovy town, Chief," says Neal, amusement clear on his scruffy features. "Our crime rate's low and the people are good."

"If you were expecting uptight officers like in the big city, we're gonna have to disappoint you there," August chuckles.

"Weeeeell, except maybe Fa," Ruby snickers, which has Mulan actually throwing a paperclip at the other woman. Lily rolls her eyes at everyone.

" _ Anyways.  _ You just dropping by to say hi, Chief, or is there something we can do for you?"

"I actually had a few questions for you, if that's alright."

"'Course. Always got time for you. We can talk in your office." Lily motions towards the enclosed office on the other side of the room, the blinds drawn over the windows. Emma nods and starts off in that direction.

'Mama!" Henry says, excitedly bouncing by the legs of the other officers. Emma quirks a brow but Belle beats her to the punch.

"We'll look after him in the meantime," she gushes.

"Well alright. Thanks. Looking forward to working with you all," she offers to the team as she moves away, receiving a chorus of positive quips in response. She and Lily head into her new office and shut the door behind them. After a moment's hesitation, Emma takes the offered seat behind the big desk, feeling a little out of place. Being the Queen of the White Kingdom and being the Chief of Police in a town of another realm are two very different things and the responsibility weighs differently on her shoulders. Besides, Regina had been the one who did most of the reigning.

"Speaking of," she mutters to herself, closing her eyes momentarily before sighing and giving Lily a wry smile. "I've got some weird questions for you. I hope you don't mind."

"I love weird questions," Lily chuckles, making herself comfortable in the opposing chair. "Fire away."

"Do you know Trina Decker? She lives on my street."

Lily snorts loudly with laughter. "The Deckers? I don't think there's anyone in Winnetka that hasn't heard of them. They throw the best parties, so long as you're into that kind of thing."

"Uh… what kind of thing?" Emma's brows scrunch together in confusion.

"You know, being a swinger."

"I… don't actually know what that is."

"Seriously? Damn, Chief. Life must've really been uptight back in the big city." Lily grins, a wicked glint in her eye. "Swingers are people who swap partners or have group sex."

Emma's eyes bulge. "What? Why?"

"Dunno," Lily admits, shrugging. "I've never partaken. But the couples have rules and stuff, so that they're never actually cheating on each other or anything. You're better off asking French and Lucas, they'd explain it better."

"Why French and Lucas?"

"Oh, they're dating each other," Lily says with a little roll of her eyes. "And they're regulars at the Decker's parties. Apparently, the whole open-relationship swinging thing really spices up their sex life."

Emma shifts uncomfortably, struggling to imagine the sweet and bubbly Belle doing such a thing. Ruby… well, okay, she can imagine Ruby doing that. She's the only cop in the station with a neon red streak of rebellion in her hair and way more makeup than necessary.

"So… Trina and her husband swap partners all the time? Or… have group, uh… group sex?"

"Yup."

"How long have they been here? Has Trina always lived in Winnetka, or…?"

Lily frowns. "Umm, their parties have been around for quite a few years now. I don't really know much about either of them, though. This town's small but not  _ that  _ small. What's with the interest in Trina Decker?"

Her heart stutters in her chest. Emma clears her throat and shifts in her seat again. "She and her husband showed up on my doorstep last night to say hi. I was just curious, that's all."

Lily stares at her for a long moment, her eyes slowly narrowing. After a moment she grins, too much teeth showing. "You should know, Chief, that I've got a superpower. I can tell when someone's bullshitting me."

Emma blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I'm kinda glad you came in today. Gives us a chance to hash things out." Lily readjusts herself in her seat in preparation. Emma stiffens. "I've got nothing against you. I don't care that the council brought in a girl from the city when I'm the most senior officer here. Really, I don't want leadership, and I'm happier as your Deputy. But the thing is, I don't know you, and despite my best efforts, I haven't been able to find anything about you either."

Lily lifts a brow. It takes Emma a moment to catch her meaning.

"You dug into my background?" the blonde hisses.

"Oh, untwist your panties, we've all done it to each other. Think of it as initiation." She waves her hand dismissively and leans back in her seat. "Look at it from my point of view. Here's a Boston girl from out of nowhere, suddenly promoted to Chief of Police, and other than the past few years or so, you basically don't exist. You never graduated from an academy, though you come highly recommended with serious combat experience. You're an unmarried woman with a young child whose father doesn't seem to exist anywhere on paper either. No family, no next of kin, not even a known high school diploma. You're basically a mysterious human weapon. It's all about give and take, Chief. We need to know who you are. We need a reason to trust you to lead us."

The room goes silent. Lily says nothing more, her speech over, and Emma looks like a deer in headlights still trying to comprehend the brunette's words. Lily is right, of course. She's being given responsibility over this team and there can't be any doubts or mistrust - that kind of thing gets an officer hurt, or worse. But what is safe to share with her? What can Emma bear to say?

After a very long minute, she finds her voice and grits out, unwillingly, "My wife died."

That's not what Lily had expected to hear and her eyes widen in surprise, half because she didn't take Emma for a  _ lesbian  _ and half because it's a horrible beginning to a story. "I'm sorry."

"When she died, Henry and I… we weren't safe. I-- I had to leave my entire life behind." Distorting the truth is easy. Speaking about Regina is not. "I gave up everything to start my life over in Boston, but we had to leave when some creep started stalking me. My boss was the one who recommended me to the council for this job. I didn't ask to be Chief of anything."

She forces out each statement and they start to come out faster and easier, as if the floodgates to the truth have been thrown open and there is no going back now. "Henry and I came here for another second chance. Then Trina Decker shows up on my front porch looking like my wife's fucking  _ clone  _ and I can't tell if this is supposed to be a sign or if the universe just has a cruel sense of humor."

This time it's Lily's turn to be speechless. She leans back in her chair, eyebrows hitting her hairline for the longest moment before finally blowing out noisily through her lips. "Shit. That's… Damn, Chief, I'm sorry. That can't be easy."

Emma gives a startled little laugh of disbelief, pressing her face into her hands with a sigh. "And they invited me to their party tonight. Oh god."

"Are you going to go?"

"I don't know," Emma murmurs, dropping her hands into her lap. "Part of me wants to stay the hell away and save myself the pain. I mean, she's  _ married,  _ for god's sake, open relationship or not."

"And the other part of you?"

"The other part wants to use any excuse to be near her." Emma stares miserably at the surface of her desk. "Regina… Regina was the love of my life. Always will be. And Trina is a… a carbon copy. I don't know if I can stay away even if I wanted to."

Lily gives her a sympathetic look. "I can't imagine how hard this must be. Do you think your wife had a twin she never mentioned?"

Emma glances back up, confused. "What?"

"Well, I mean if Trina seems like a  _ carbon copy--  _ what other explanation is there?"

"No. That's impossible." Emma shakes her head.

"How are you so sure?"

"Because she--" Emma stops herself, frowning. Because Regina is from a different world, so it's impossible for her to have a twin sister in this one. But she can't tell Lily that, so she avoids the question with, "I just know she doesn't have a twin, okay?"

It's close enough to the truth that Lily doesn't call her out on it. Emma wants to voice her real thought - that Trina must certainly be a reincarnation of Regina. It's the only explanation that makes sense, after all. For all she knew, the magic bean could have taken her to a different  _ time  _ as well. Perhaps this world was further ahead in the timeline than theirs. Surely it would explain Trina's entire life here. Did fate plan this entire meeting out, then? Was she meant to find Regina once she'd grown into an adult again?

"So… You're going tonight?"

Emma runs a hand across her face again, sucking in a slow, long breath. Then, wearily, "Yeah. Guess I am."

"Talk to Lucas and French," says Page, standing. Emma crinkles her brow. "They're probably going to the party too. I know sharing your story is tough, but they should know. That way they'll have your back a hundred percent tonight, no matter what happens."

 

 

The water is cool and soothing against her skin as she wades across the pool, distracted. It's been a relatively quiet day considering the events they have planned for tonight. Tom's taken care of most of the preparations this time, insisting Trina relax and enjoy the afternoon. Normally the break would be welcome, but after her restless and unusually dream-filled night, she finds herself unpleasantly lost in thought.

Emma Swan. For whatever reason, the blonde woman has been on her mind all day ever since they'd met her last night, even going so far as to invade her dreams. There was something almost haunted in the woman's startling green eyes, and the strangest feeling of wanting,  _ needing  _ to know her, has clung to Trina since then, an unshakeable itch at the back of her skull.

Dipping back beneath the water, Trina swims down the length of the pool again, coming up on the other side in time to see her husband trot out from the back door. He squats by the edge of the pool as she wipes the water from her eyes.

"Hey, I'm heading over to Saver's to pick up the booze. Need anything while I'm out?"

He offers a hand and gently guides her up as she climbs out of the pool, water running off her body and plastering her little black swimsuit to her form.

"Aspirin. And a pack of one hundreds," she requests, squeezing out her short hair as Tom retrieves a towel and drapes it around her shoulders, turning the simple action into a hug from behind. "So what do you think of our new neighbor?"

"She seems nice," Tom murmurs, kissing the back of her head before releasing her. "Good lookin'. No husband around, yet she's got the house and she has one of those new Volkswagon Super Beetles out front, so my guess is she hit it big in the market. That or she's a wealthy widow."

Trina turns and runs the edge of the towel over her face before letting it settle around her arms and body, shielding her damp skin from the breeze. With a mixture of eagerness and hesitation she asks, "You think she'll show tonight?"

Tom purses his lips a moment in contemplation. Trina hadn't said a word about their new neighbor after they'd left for their evening jog last night, and she's been rather quiet today. He'd assumed she'd lost interest after meeting the woman in person. "Why? You interested?"

In a further display of uncharacteristic behavior, Trina bites her lower lip and tilts her head, eyes uncertain and unreadable. "I don't know yet," she says simply. Tom smiles with amusement and shifts his shoulders in a tiny shrug.

"She seemed a little straight and narrow. She was definitely stiff with us. Might be a tough sell." But he's smirking a little, because they both love a good challenge when it comes to convincing people into their bed. Trina wraps the towel around herself and returns the predatory smile as she turns for the house.

"Easy is boring."

 

 

Belle, as it turns out, is a total fashionista out of uniform. When Emma mentioned getting invited to the Decker's party, she and Ruby just about accosted their Chief, entirely too excited to get dolled up together for the event. Grace was, fortunately, available to watch Henry for the night, so Emma found herself getting dragged off shopping.

"It's a Decker party, you absolutely have to go in a new dress," Belle insists, thrusting another armful of choices at her. "And a bikini! There's a great swimwear store nearby. You need to wear one under your dress so you can take advantage of the pool."

"Or you can swim commando, that's entirely an option," Ruby adds, smirking at them from the waiting room chair. "I guarantee you'll have Trina's attention if you strip down and jump in her pool. She's always liked blondes."

Belle rolls her eyes affectionately as Emma struggles into the next dress and steps out from behind the curtain to show them. "How do you know that?" Emma asks, though she's not sure she really wants the answer.

"She mentioned it once," Belle says simply.

"Mmmhm. She's always loved running her fingers through long blonde curls, apparently. That woman's great for pillow talk," Ruby finishes, oblivious of the look her girlfriend shoots her. She does, however, notice the scrunch of Emma's eyebrows, so she clears her throat and changes the subject. "You look amazing, Chief. She's gonna love you."

"But maybe in the red instead," says Belle, frowning slightly at the clingy turquoise dress that hugs Emma's every curve. It's a sexy fit and definitely brings out her eyes, but it's a little too soft and gentle for the party. Emma needs to stand out, not blend in like a pretty wallflower.

With a shrug, the blonde ducks back into the changing room to swap dresses. Belle drops into Ruby's lap to talk quietly into her ear. "Be mindful of what you say, will you? She looks at Trina and sees her wife."

"Yeah, but she  _ knows  _ Trina isn't her wife. We don't want her getting involved with the Deckers without being fully aware of who they are, otherwise she might end up with a broken heart. You know not everyone's cut out for this lifestyle."

"At the very least, she doesn't need to associate  _ us  _ with Trina's bedroom. I'd like to stay on the Chief's good side, thank you very much."

Ruby's brows lift and her lips tug into a mischievous grin. "You know, if she's open to it, we could both be on her good side…"

"Do not go there, Ruby Lucas," Belle chides, stifling a giggle. "Trying to seduce our superior is a sexy and absolutely  _ terrible  _ idea." Emma sticks her head out of the curtain at that moment to make a face at them, having caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Mind out of the gutters, ladies," she says in a faintly teasing tone, and the two brunettes jump slightly and burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Chief. Can't not appreciate a beautiful woman," Ruby sasses back, which has Emma rolling her eyes a little as she steps out fully from behind the curtains in a crimson red dress. Belle and Ruby's eyes widen comically.

"Oh," Belle squeaks, her voice going up an entire register.

"Dang, Chief," Ruby says, her voice dropping an entire register.

Emma doesn't bother trying on the rest of the dresses and simply grabs her wallet.

 

 

The party is, as always, a huge success.

Nearly every fun-loving couple in town is in attendance;  _ Boogie Wonderland  _ by "Earth, Wind & Fire" blasts from the speakers, people dance and play with sparklers, smoke hangs low in the evening air as the menfolk grill every type of meat available, and the booze is flowing. Trina took an aspirin an hour earlier and is feeling much better as she reclines on one of the patio couches around the firepit, stiletto'd feet propped up across the thighs of Grant, one of her many male friends and occasional playmates. He gently massages her calf muscles as she sips her drink and politely inquires about his wife, who is somewhere on the dance floor within the crowd.

"She's been trying out that thing you showed her," he says with a dramatic wiggle of his eyebrows, and Trina bursts out laughing in delight, grinning as Tom appears behind her and gently kneads his thumb and fingers into her shoulders.

"Oh, that's good," she purrs, moaning softly and tilting her head forward as he massages away the tension in her neck. Tom and Grant exchange an amused glance at the familiar sound.

"You'll never guess who decided to show up," Tom says after a moment, leaning down to kiss the top of Trina's head. She immediately looks up at him, brows rising.

"No. Emma?"

"Mmhmm. Came in with Ruby and Belle."

Trina grabs his hand where it still rests on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze before quickly standing and striding off. Grant chuckles.

"Who's Emma?"

"Our new neighbor," Tom says, taking Trina's place on the couch. "Good looking woman, single mother."

"Let me guess; Trina zeroed in on her like a shark that smelled blood?"

They share a chuckle. Tom sips at his glass of whiskey. "Of course. I think I'll sit back and let Trina work her magic. Emma seems nice but I still think she'll be a hard sell."

Grant leans back to watch Trina's progress as the woman weaves through the crowd and into the house, still visible from the wide floor-to-ceiling windows. When his eyes land on a blonde in a red dress, his eyebrows hit his hairline.

"Is  _ that  _ her?'

Tom glances over and grins. "Yup. What do you think?"

"I think I wouldn't blame Trina if she doesn't want to share this one with you."

 

 

"Okay, you need to calm down," Ruby mutters, wincing as Emma's fingers dig into her arm. She and Belle had decided to flank Emma, one on each side with their arms linked together. They have friends and acquaintances scattered throughout the party and more than one come up to tease the brunettes about their new blonde playmate, only for Emma to send them scurrying in the opposite direction with a sharp glare.

"You can release me now," Emma laments, feeling trapped between the two. Belle snags a glass of something alcoholic from a passing tray and pushes it into Emma's hand.

"You can have a drink first. Then we'll see about letting go of you."

"I feel like I'm in the middle of a threesome," the blonde mutters, Ruby snickering as Emma downs her drink without tasting it. She immediately regrets that decision as she coughs and chokes on the spicy burn running down her throat. "Oh, that's strong."

"There you go. Deep breath. It'll be fine. Trina and Tom are going to love you."

Emma's brows furrow at the reminder of Tom, but she says nothing and casts her gaze around the crowded room and the even more crowded backyard, where people are hanging around the firepit, cooking at the barbeques, or playing in the pool.

Exchanging a glance, Ruby and Belle detach themselves from Emma's arms, figuring their Chief isn't at risk of fleeing the party at this point. It's too late anyway, because they've already noticed Trina weaving through the crowd towards them.

"Incoming," Ruby says before smiling brightly at Trina's arrival. "Hey, Trina!"

"Hi," Trina croons out, her red lips spread in a brilliant smile. Emma freezes up, shifting backwards a little as Ruby and Belle each take turns hugging Trina and exchanging quick, friendly kisses. And then Regina - no,  _ Trina -  _ turns her attention on her and Emma has to remind herself to breathe. The momentary pause of hesitation from the other woman has Emma's heart racing because maybe the red dress is a mistake and maybe ironing her hair into big luscious curls was too much and maybe Belle's makeup on her face is overkill and--

"Emma," Trina greets warmly, putting a stop to her internal panic. "So glad you could make it."

"Yeah… Thanks for inviting me," Emma manages to say, trying her best not to stare too obviously. But she hasn't seen Regina in over three years and it's hard not to stare at her now like a starving person. To be fair, Trina can't stop looking her up and down appreciatively either, seemingly enamoured with her bare arms. Emma instinctively flexes under the scrutinizing gaze.

"I see you already know Belle and Ruby," says Trina, smiling again at her fellow brunettes.

"Just met them today," Emma says.

"She's our new Chief of Police," Belle adds helpfully, which has Trina looking at Emma with surprise and new intrigue.

"You're a cop," she says, and the other women are fully aware that her voice has just dropped an octave lower. Emma nods wordlessly. Then, as if her train of thought has decided to suddenly go in a different direction, Trina beams and says, "Come, let me get you a drink, Emma! How about a tour?"

Ruby and Belle immediately look to Emma, and much like they would if they were on the job, they wait on her reaction, alert to even her body language. Emma's throat bobs with a thick swallow, then she gives a believable smile and nods, eyes flickering to her officers as if to say,  _ I'll be okay _ . "Sure, thanks."

Trina steps forward to lead Emma away, and Belle and Ruby watch them go with a smile.

"She'll be fine, right?" Ruby asks, somewhat concerned at the rigidness of Emma's spine - of which she can actually see without hindrance because that damned red dress is open in the back all the way down to the little divots between the strong muscles on Emma's lower back and  _ jesus christ,  _ that dress isn't fair.

"She seems like she's holding together okay." Belle shrugs a delicate shoulder. "Come on, let's mingle and keep an ear open for her. If she needs backup she'll flag us over."

 

"--and this is the bedroom," Trina says, her voice playful as she leads the way into the master bedroom. Emma follows at a closer pace, feeling less tense now that she's well into her third glass of hard liquor. Trina's been nothing but sweet and friendly as she shows her around the house, and Emma has enough alcohol in her system that she can forget about all her worries for just a little while and enjoy the simple fact that her wife is smiling at her and talking to her and occasionally touching her arm. 

She'll take moments of happiness wherever she can get it.

"It's very cozy," Emma comments, eyes on the very large bed. They're both surprised when a voice speaks up from the floor by the glass table.

"Trina, thank god!" A blonde woman stumbles up from where she was kneeling on the carpet. "Do you have any coke?"

Trina gives an apologetic little smile. "No, dear, never when I host. But I think Jones has plenty… but just watch out, he's more handsy than usual."

The woman huffs a little and stoops to pick up her purse and sunglasses from the table as Trina glances back at Emma.

"I'm sorry, have you two met?" Emma shakes her head. "Ah. Emma, this is Kathryn Midas. Kat, this is Emma Swan. She just moved into the house next door to you."

Kathryn straightens up and blinks at Emma. "Do you have any coke?"

"Uh-- sorry." Emma shakes her head, resisting the urge to frown and tell her that she just asked the Chief of Police for drugs. Trina puts a hand on Kathryn's arm to get her attention.

"Honey, I think Fred's looking for you."

"Big surprise," Kathryn grunts, putting her sunglasses on before slipping past Emma and out the bedroom door. Trina chuckles and gives Emma an apologetic smile.

"She's harmless. Miserable, but harmless. I keep saying they should open up their marriage like everyone else, but her husband's a little uptight."

Emma gives a noncommittal hum. She'd hoped to avoid this topic a while longer, but Trina continues on while she opens up the bedside cabinet and searches inside for something. "What about you, Emma? You said you didn't have a husband, right? Were you ever married?"

"Ah-- yes. Once." Emma hesitates, wondering if mentioning Regina would help… with what, though, she's not sure. Would she get her memories back? Would she remember her?

"Did you ever consider an open marriage, when you were married?"

The thought has Emma chuckling despite herself.

"No, no. Regina would've killed me if I cheated on her."

"It's not cheating when--" Trina pauses, craning her head back to blink at her. For a moment Emma's heart clenches, thinking that she remembers, she  _ knows,  _ but then Trina continues, "You were  _ married _ to a woman?"

Emma swallows down her disappointment with difficulty. "Yes. I know it's not legal here, but, uh-- we were… married elsewhere."

Trina lifts a brow but doesn't press the issue, for which Emma is glad. This world is far more judgemental and discriminatory where sexual orientation is concerned, whereas it's a non issue in the Enchanted Forest.

"Well, I was saying, it's not cheating. It's the opposite, really."

Emma tries to imagine having an 'open relationship' in her marriage to Regina and can only see the outcome ending with fireballs. The thought is strangely amusing to her currently intoxicated mind. "How is having sex with other people not cheating?"

"Well, because everything's already on the table." Trina finally emerges from the cabinet with a small box in hand, lifting the lid and pulling out a small white pill. She pops it into her mouth and downs it with a sip of her drink. "There's no sneaking around, no lies… Ever since we got into it, Tom and I have reached a whole other level of intimacy. Not to mention the incredible sex."

Emma blanches at the thought as Trina takes another pill and holds it out to her.

"Quaalude?"

"Uh, I've never… I've never had one."

"Oh well then I insist," says Trina, pressing the pill into Emma's hand. "Here. It'll take the edge off."

Emma grimaces at it while Trina puts the box away and closes up the cabinet. When the brunette turns back to her, the blonde is still staring at the pill like she's holding a live bomb.

"It's not illegal, Chief Swan," she teases. There's a familiar glint in her brown eyes and Emma can feel the warmth emanating from her skin when Trina leans in to bump against her playfully, and wanting nothing more than to make her estranged wife happy, Emma places the pill on her tongue and washes it down with another gulp of her drink.

 

There are fireworks in the air when they rejoin the party in the backyard, and though Emma's seen a few in the city from afar, this is the first time she's seen them exploding in the sky directly above them. Tom's working the machine, shooting off more of the little rockets as everyone dances under the lights, laughing and cheering, glasses clinking together as people toast each other for nothing more than a heck of a good night.

"Chief!" Belle half-shouts, gleefully dragging Ruby over as they nearly bump into the blonde. "Enjoying the party so far?"

"Yeah, it's great," Emma blurts out, feeling lighter and happier than she has in years. Trina laughs and squeezes her arm for a moment before slipping off to see Tom at the fireworks machine, leaving Ruby to sling an arm around Emma's shoulder and pull her closer.

"Hey, were you okay? You guys disappeared further into the house and we lost sight of you."

"Yeah, it was fine," Emma dismisses with a wave of her hand. "Regi--  _ Trina _ gave me a Quaalude. I've never had one before."

Ruby's brows lift. "You've never--? Huh. I probably shouldn't be surprised you agreed to try drugs just because a lookalike of your dead wife offered it."

"Ruby!" Belle scolds, but for whatever reason, Emma thinks it's hilarious because of how ridiculously  _ true  _ it is, and she just bursts out laughing without restraint, her drink sloshing out of the glass as she clutches at her stomach with her free hand.

"Well, at least she's finally relaxed," Ruby shrugs.

"Well of course," Trina says as she rejoins the group. "Someone had to get her to loosen up. You were so tense, Emma!"

"It's a long story," says Emma, aiming a lazy smile at Trina. "These fireworks are amazing! I've never seen any this close before."

Trina laughs. "I'll tell Tom you said so. Come over here, you can see them better from this side." And then she's tugging at Emma's arm and the blonde obediently follows - she'd follow Regina to the ends of the earth and back - leaving Belle and Ruby behind to watch them in amusement.

"You're really enjoying yourself tonight?" Trina asks loudly as they stop to admire the light show, standing only inches apart due to the throng of people around them. Emma tilts her head down just a smidge to stare into those familiar brown eyes, her chest aching with love and desire and  _ God, I've missed you so much, my love _ .

"I am," she says, just as loudly. The few remaining sober cells in her brain are shouting at her not to make a stupid move.

"I'm glad," Trina replies, lips stretched into a beautiful smile, her eyelids drooping ever so slightly with a come-hither expression. Unfortunately, the other ninety-nine percent of Emma's brain cells are intoxicated by drugs and alcohol, and the next thing she knows, she's kissing Trina.

And  _ god,  _ does Trina kiss her back.

Their lips part almost immediately with the stroke of a tongue - and she's not sure whose tongue begged for entrance first - and then they're wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing and nipping, teeth biting into pouty lips and tongues pressing for dominance. The tightness in Emma's chest feels like a quivering now, like her heart might just explode into a million pieces, so she clings harder to the brunette as if pressing against her body will help hold her together.

When they break apart for air, foreheads still pressed together, Trina's eyes flicker to the side and she smiles at someone in her line of vision. Emma reluctantly pulls back so that she can turn her head in time to see Tom approach them, his expression open, friendly, and unperturbed.

"Having fun, ladies?" he asks, standing close enough to sling an arm around Trina's waist without encroaching on Emma's personal space, giving her the opportunity to back away if she feels uncomfortable. Unwilling to step out of Trina's arms, however, Emma stays in place and tries to force her lips into a polite smile.

"How are you feeling?" The question comes from Trina, who has to make an effort not to stare hungrily at the blonde's now kiss-swollen lips, her red lipstick smudged ever so slightly.

"I'm good," says Emma, stroking her fingers against Trina where they still rest against the brunette's sides. The alcohol has relaxed her and the Quaalude has her momentarily forgetting about all the things that had stressed her out only an hour ago. If anything, she feels happily drunk. She'd forgotten how much she'd missed the taste of her wife's lips.

"Good," says Trina, a husky laugh escaping her throat as she turns her head to kiss her husband. Tom nestles in just a little closer, his other hand settling on Emma's lower back to complete the three-way embrace. Averting her eyes, Emma zeroes in on Trina's exposed neck and leans in to kiss and nip at the soft, smooth skin there. Trina eventually breaks the kiss with Tom to let out a breathy moan of delight.

"Emma," she murmurs, meeting green eyes as the blonde pulls back to look at her. "Why don't the three of us go someplace a little quieter?"

Green eyes flicker towards Tom, the hesitation and jealousy visible for only a moment before she locks back onto beautiful browns. The same beautiful browns she has never been able to say no to.

"Okay," Emma breathes out, with eyes only for her wife. Trina beams and kisses her once more - her mouth tastes a little like Tom now and though Emma doesn't like it, she can ignore it and focus on the taste of her wife - and then Trina is leading her and Tom by the hands back towards the house, the bedroom, and Emma can do nothing but obediently follow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead! It's marked by "BEGINNING/ENDING OF 'M' RATED SCENE" in case you wish to skip it, but really, why would you be reading a Swingtown crossover if not for the hot sexytimes? xD
> 
> Honestly, though, it makes up like 80% of this chapter, and I promise it's entirely Emma/Trina (you were all very adamant about no Tom, lol!) so, I do encourage you to read it! It's also officially the first in-depth sex scene I've published online, so I would love your feedback. Let me know if you needed a cold shower afterwards. ;)
> 
> *Reminder that this ends with a SwanQueen happy ending, so... stay with me, dear. The angst will be worth it!
> 
> UPDATE: I suppose 'smut' isn't really accurate, is it? All your wonderful comments thus far made me realize that this is indeed a very meaningful and emotional sex scene, so if you don't mind a bit of detail (it's not crass at all) I do encourage you to give it a try instead of skipping it. :)

"Ruby!" Belle lunges across the short space between them to grab Ruby's arm the moment she notices Trina leading Tom and Emma away, jerking the taller brunette with her.

"What?" Ruby asks, wincing as her drink sloshes over her hand.

"We have a problem." Belle points, and Ruby follows her gaze with a slow blink, confusion marring her narrow features.

"I don't see a problem. Isn't that what she wanted?"

"I'm pretty sure she didn't plan on having a threesome during her first time here - and especially not when she's _drunk and high._ I didn't expect Trina to give her a Quaalude. We have to stop them, Ruby."

"I hope you have a plan then, because I'm not an experienced cockblocker," Ruby mutters, following along as her girlfriend pulls her through the crowd and towards the retreating Deckers. They manage to catch up to them in the hallway just before the bedroom, Belle calling out to get their attention.

"Ladies," Tom greets with a friendly smile. Trina pauses with an arm around Emma's hips, quirking a brow at the two other brunettes.

"Joining the party?" she asks with a salacious smile, glancing sideways at Emma. "I hope you don't have a fraternization policy, Chief."

Emma, for her part, is staring at Belle and Ruby in mild horror. Ruby quickly throws up her hands in a placating gesture while Belle scampers forward to grab Trina by her other arm.

"Actually, I need to speak to Trina in private for just a minute. Sorry!" She doesn't give the woman a chance to speak and simply drags her away, leaving Ruby alone with Emma and Tom in the hallway. Leading her into the linen room down the hall, Belle pushes Trina inside and shuts the door with a wince, casting them both in darkness.

"Belle," Trina laughs. "What are you doing?"

"You can't have a threesome with Emma!" Belle blurts out, which has Trina's laughter dying off almost immediately. The older brunette's brows furrow and her lips tug down into a frown.

"Excuse me?" she asks, unable to hide the tinge of offense in her tone. They'd been only five paces away from the bedroom when they were so abruptly interrupted, and despite what she'd told Tom earlier today, she _is_ in fact terribly intrigued by Emma. She wants to get to know her - in _every_ way - and now she's being denied?

"She-- she, uhh--" Belle scrambles for an excuse, of which she has none. Divulging the fact that Trina looks just like Emma's deceased wife would be a complete betrayal of her Chief's trust and she refuses to do that. Instead, she says, "Emma has an aversion to men."

"An aversion to men," Trina repeats, deadpan.

"You gave her a Quaalude," Belle says, exasperated. "If she weren't drunk and high right now, there would be no way you would've gotten her into bed with Tom there. She would never be comfortable with that. You can't take advantage of her like that."

Trina grimaces and tilts her head ever so slightly. "But--"

"Believe me, she will _not_ consent to sharing a bed with a man. If you do this, you may as well expect to see her packing up to leave tomorrow."

Trina goes silent, her dark eyes narrow with concern and something else - disappointment? Frustration? Belle racks her mind for more ideas, blinking away the buzz of her last drink.

"You know, if you two are game, you could have Emma tonight and we'll entertain Tom elsewhere?" Belle offers after a moment. It's not like they haven't done it before. Swapping partners is the point, after all. Swapping partners and leaving for separate rooms is the part that's uncommon, but Belle's betting on the fact that the look of desire in Trina's eyes will convince the other woman to agree.

"I'll speak to Tom," Trina finally says. With a nod and a brief squeeze of her upper arm, they leave the linen room and return to the three befuddled looking people waiting in the hallway. Trina pulls Tom aside and whispers to him while Belle does the same with Ruby.

"But - just us and Tom?" Ruby asks with a pout - and Belle knows exactly how she feels, because though they enjoy the man's company during their partner swaps, they're both more partial to Trina.

"Emma deserves one good night," Belle reminds her in a whisper. Her girlfriend huffs dramatically with a little roll of her eyes.

"Fine. For the Chief."

When they turn back to the others, Trina is already tugging Emma away while Tom smiles playfully at them. "Guess we're being booted to the guest room," he chuckles, looping an arm around their shoulders as they walk with him in the opposite direction.

"You don't mind, do you?" Belle asks.

"How could I mind when I've got the company of two beautiful women?"

Ruby snickers and gently smacks him on the chest. "Admit it, we can't even blame Trina for not wanting to share. The Chief is _fine."_

"That she is," Tom and Belle both agree in tandem.

 

**BEGINNING OF 'M' RATED SCENE**

 

The bedroom is dark when they step inside this time. Trina pulls the curtains shut over the windows while Emma stands frozen by the door, confused and yet relieved that Tom had left with Belle and Ruby. She's not sure what Trina had whispered in Tom's ear, and she's not sure if she really wants to find out. What had Belle said to her? Why were they suddenly alone together?

"Emma?" Trina's voice pulls her wandering mind back to the present, green eyes snapping up to lock onto familiar brown ones. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Emma replies, though her voice feels faint even to her own ears. She clears her throat and tries again, a little louder and more clearly this time. "I'm just… Where's Tom?"

She wants to take it back as soon as it's out of her mouth. She's finally alone with Trina, why the hell can't she just enjoy it? Her body tenses up even as Trina lays a comforting hand on her shoulders, bringing their bodies just a little closer together.

"I've decided I don't want to share you," Trina offers, which isn't entirely a lie. As much as she would have enjoyed sharing her with Tom, there's a part of her that wants to have Emma all to herself, too. She's never felt like this towards any of her playmates and she doesn't understand why she feels this way towards Emma, but she decides not to think too hard on it and simply appreciate the opportunity she has now. Especially since Tom had been so understanding and basically gave her his blessing.

"Oh," is all Emma says, her breath trembling as Trina leans closer and closer until their chests are pressed together, body heat mingling between them.

"Don't be nervous, Emma," Trina murmurs, sliding her arms more fully around the blonde's neck and tugging the slightly taller woman down to her. In lieu of a reply, Emma closes the remaining distance and captures her mouth in a tentative kiss, glossy pink lips melding against crimson red ones.

The kiss is gentle at first, a soft press of flesh against flesh. Emma's arms encircle Trina's waist and pull their bodies flush against one another as the brunette's tongue swipes across her bottom lip, a coquettish request for entrance that is instantly granted with a soft groan. Trina's hands trail over the back of Emma's neck before starting a slow descent, palms and fingertips grazing the smooth, bare flesh of Emma's spine where her dress dips low, settling over the soft indent of muscle just over the back of her hips. Emma shivers involuntarily at the feather-light touch and nips hard at Trina's pouty lower lip, earning a little whimper before sucking it into her mouth with a stroke of her tongue in soothing apology. Trina retaliates by digging her fingers into the blonde's lower back and pulling her towards the bed.

"Undress me," Trina whispers between kisses, guiding Emma's hands to the back of her dress where fingers fumble to pull down the zipper. Emma drags the little metal tab all the way down to just over the swell of Trina's ass before the brunette takes the initiative and wiggles herself out the remaining way, letting her dress fall to the floor around her ankles to reveal her matching red silk bra and thong combo. Emma's dress doesn't come with a zipper, so Trina breaks their kiss and begins making her way down the blonde's throat.

Hooking her fingers into the shoulder straps of Emma's sinfully red dress, she tugs it down over sculpted shoulders and begins slowly pulling it down, kissing the blonde's neck, her collarbones, the soft flesh on her upper chest where she can feel her heart beating a fast and erratic pace just beneath the supple skin. The fabric tightens around her breasts and Trina gives it an encouraging tug, unveiling a pair of perfect globes snugly held in a lacy black bra. Red lips kiss a sticky trail down the valley between Emma's breasts until her chin settles there, face pillowed in soft warmth, tongue laving the skin and tasting slowly of her.

"Trina," Emma manages, her breath caught in her throat. Trina smiles against her skin before continuing her path downwards. As Emma's dress is peeled lower and lower, Trina's kisses make their way along a flat stomach, red lips pressing against each ab muscle until they're brushing over the blonde's lower abdomen, just over the hem of Emma's lacy black panties. The red dress finally pools to the floor around her ankles, but Emma's too stunned to kick them away, instead staring down with hooded green eyes at the brunette kneeling at her feet.

"You have a beautiful body, Emma," Trina murmurs, arms gently wrapped around the blonde's thighs as she kisses the smooth skin of her lower abdomen again, feeling the flesh quiver under each kiss. She tilts her head down with a slow intake of breath, her senses immediately overtaken by the heavy scent of Emma's obvious arousal through the thin fabric of her underwear. Her nose bumps against the other woman's mound and Emma nearly jumps as if electrocuted.

"Get up here," the blonde croaks out, her voice strained with barely contained desire. Trina rises in one smooth motion and barely has time to smirk before Emma drags her forwards to crush their lips together, breasts fitting against each other and bare stomachs pressed together. She winds her arms around the blonde's neck again as one of Emma's arms wraps around her waist, the other moving upwards so that she can tangle her fingers into silky, ebony hair. One quick tug has her tilting her head back, baring her neck to the blonde's hungry nips. Emma laves her tongue across the exposed flesh, dipping into the little hollow between her collarbones before making a path up and to the side where her mouth latches onto Trina's pulse point and bites down.

"Oh!" Trina gasps softly, cradling Emma's head as the blonde sucks and bites the spot, almost tasting her blood beneath the soft skin. Tom isn't into biting and they've never had playmates willing to mark their flesh, so the experience is bizarrely new for Trina, but what's more surprising to her is the way the teeth and hot tongue at her pulse point sends a shock of heat straight down to her core.

"Emma," she moans, fingernails dragging gently across the blonde's back, too aroused by the feeling to really consider the fact that she's allowing a playmate to mark her. Emma releases her flesh with a _pop_ and begins moving downwards, nuzzling the swell of Trina's breasts in a silk red bra. Her hands slide around the brunette and unclasp the article of flimsy fabric, tossing it aside before giving Trina a push and sending the other woman falling back onto the bed.

The blood rushing through her system has Emma almost painfully alert, soaking in the sight of her wife - no, Trina - lying back, knees coyly pressed together, eyes at half mast and lower lip pinched between her teeth. Trina has nothing left on except for a tiny red thong which Emma immediately goes after next, crouching over the other woman and grabbing the band of it with her teeth. The brunette groans at the sight, keeping her legs together even as Emma drags the scrap of fabric downwards, freeing her from her last bit of modesty. When it's finally off, Emma drops the thong to the ground and slowly crawls back onto the bed.

"You're overdressed," Trina purrs, reaching around Emma to unclasp her bra as the blonde settles over her on all fours. Emma just leans down and captures her lips in another searing kiss, making no effort to cooperate even as Trina tugs her bra straps down around her arms.

"Emma," the brunette sighs into the kiss, pulling again on the bra trapped between them. The blonde sits up just long enough to toss it aside, then shifts down and takes one of Trina's dusky nipples into her mouth. _"Oh."_

A long moan escapes the brunette, her back arching off the bed to thrust her breasts upwards as Emma suckles on one and palms the other. She sucks, nips, laves her tongue over the turgid peak until it's hard and painfully at attention, then gives the same attention to the other, warm hands gently but firmly massaging the olive toned globes at her mercy. With fingers winding into blonde hair, Trina cradles the head nestled to her breast and tilts her own head back into the pillow, chest rising and falling with each long, steady breath, her arousal growing at a slow and languid simmer.

"Come up here and let me touch you," she murmurs after a minute of enjoying the gentle ministrations, tugging lightly on blonde curls with one hand as she reaches between them to brush her hands across Emma's breasts. The blonde grasps her wrists and moves them back over her head, gently pinning them there as she moves her kisses up over Trina's collarbone, along her throat, then back to her lips.

"No touching," Emma murmurs, grazing the other woman's jaw with her teeth, nipping almost playfully at her pouty lower lip. "Let me."

Trina parts her lips to ask, _Let you what?_ but the words die on her tongue as Emma slides down her body, green eyes impossibly dark, coaxing the brunette's knees apart and turning her head to press hot kisses to her inner thighs.

Glossy pink lips leave a sticky trail along her sensitive flesh, her path slow and unhurried even as Trina bites her own lip and withholds a groan, hips lifting ever so slightly, her core seeking contact. She keeps her hands against the pillow above her head, fingers gripping the fabric in an attempt to behave when Emma murmurs the soft reminder against her thigh.

 _"Emma,"_ Trina husks in frustration when the sticky kisses move too high and Emma's nuzzling the little patch of soft, dark curls at the apex of her thighs. She's wet, she can _feel_ how wet she is by the way Emma's breath against her moist center has her shivering with desire. "Please--"

Dark green eyes lift to stare at her from where Emma's positioned between Trina's thighs, her stare intense with passion even as she smiles slightly and blows a purposeful breath onto Trina's wetness, eliciting another shiver from the brunette. Her voice, when she finally speaks, is deep and impossibly rough. "Tell me what you want, my Queen."

 _"Take me."_ And it's not so much a command as it is a plea, her heart thudding in her chest at _'my Queen'_ and pumping blood to the one place in her body that demands it the most, and then Emma is ducking her head and dragging her tongue along the entirety of her slit and swirling over her clit, and _oh,_ Trina nearly cries with relief, her hips jerking off the bed even as Emma holds her down by her thighs.

Teeth close around her clit, closely followed by warm lips that envelope her engorged pearl with a hard suck. Trina gasps, a sharp _"Oh! Oh!",_ her eyes squeezing shut as she squirms and tries to buck herself into Emma's mouth. The blonde grips her harder, pinning her hips to the bed, allowing only the slightest wiggle room as she focuses the entirety of her attention on the swollen nub in her mouth. She nibbles, knowing the exact amount of pressure to give, holding Trina on the edge of pain and pleasure where she _knows_ she likes it, feels the familiar tremor in the brunette's body and waits for her to tense. A second later and Trina is tensing up, and then Emma replaces her teeth with her tongue, soothing the swollen clit with quick, hard swirls that have her jerking her hips again with breathless whimpers.

Emma knows the brunette's body, knows how to touch her, to please her, to play her like a finely tuned instrument. Years may have passed but Emma pleasures her as if they haven't been apart at all, every swipe of her tongue and stroke of her fingers purposeful and knowing. Trina's thighs involuntarily clamp down around Emma's head as she continues to switch between nipping and licking until the brunette shudders and arches off the bed with a cry, head pressing back into the pillow and a strained gasp clawing its way from her throat. Her entire body goes rigid as she grips the pillows with a vengeance, chest heaving and a long, stuttering moan escaping her.

"Let me hear you," Emma murmurs, sucking softly at the twitching bundle of nerves. A tremor runs through Trina's body, the woman still struggling to even out her breathing, as Emma slings one arm around the brunette's hips and readjusts herself so that she has her fingers stroking Trina's soaked entrance now.

"Emma," Trina breathes out, dazed and confused, yet impossibly aroused as her core aches for more of the blonde's touch already. She can't remember the last time she's orgasmed quite so hard to the point of seeing spots in her vision - and now she just repeats Emma's name on autopilot, unable to think of anything else coherent to say. _"Emma."_

"Again, my love," Emma says, her voice gentle and warm, and Trina almost manages to pull herself together enough to ask, _My love?_ but there's suddenly a long, slender finger slipping into her, curling up in a come-hither motion that has her moaning helplessly and lifting her hips again. Her clit, sore and sensitive only moments before, now throbs deliciously again as it's sucked into a warm mouth, soothed by a flicking tongue as the first finger is joined by a second, tight and hot inside of her.

"Em-ma," Trina groans out, her breath coming in short puffs as she rocks her hips with the blonde's rhythm. In, out, in, out. Each stroke, every bit of friction has her blood singing and her nerves quivering. She can hear the sound of sex in the dark bedroom, hears the gratifying squelch of her own juices around Emma's knuckles with every _in_ stroke, the gentle slurp of Emma's mouth around her clit. The sheets stick to her skin as she's worked up into a sweat, chest glistening, beads of hot saltiness running down her thighs, the air thick with the scent of her arousal. She breathes heavily, hands abandoning their previous perch to grip at the bedsheets by her hips instead as she hooks her legs around Emma's shoulders and grinds against her mouth and fingers. Emma's long fingers twist, curl, rub intimately against the ribbed flesh inside of her.

Trina cries out her second release.

She's panting, moaning long and low, legs slipping from Emma's shoulders and falling limp to the bed, boneless and quivering. Emma's fingers continue a slow pumping motion within her, drawing out her orgasm for so long that Trina whimpers, actually _whimpers,_ stomach muscles contracting and hips jerking ever so slightly. She feels a shifting of weight and finally opens bleary russet eyes to find Emma crawling back up towards her, pupils so dilated that her eyes are nearly black. The younger woman gazes down at her with such tender affection that it takes Trina off guard, her reaction delayed as Emma leans down and kisses her, sharing the taste of her essence.

This, too, does not happen often during her lovemaking with Tom. Trina feels as if she's melting into the bed, unable to notice anything but Emma's soft lips against hers, the taste of herself in the blonde's mouth, hot and sweet and tangy all at once. She sucks eagerly on the tongue that melds with hers, moaning softly into Emma's hungry kisses, finding enough energy to weave her arms around the other woman's torso and pull her chest down against hers, their hearts pounding almost as one.

Feeling trickles back into her boneless body after a few long seconds of respite, her insides twitching around two fingers that are still knuckle-deep within her. A lazy smile touches her lips and she nips at Emma's chin, prepared to push the woman over so that she can finally have her turn at pleasuring her, but Emma claims her mouth again at the same time she wiggles a third finger into Trina's entrance.

"Oh! Emma! _Emma!"_ Brown eyes flutter shut, head twisting away so that she can gasp and suck in air through her mouth as Emma begins anew, hips braced behind her hand to deepen each thrust. Emma's lips reattach to her pulse point, a sting of pain reminding her that she's already bruised with a mark before that discomfort also melts into a mind numbing sort of pleasure. They're rocking together now, hips jerking, Trina's fingernails digging into Emma's back harder and harder with each thrust until she's sure she's drawing blood. Delicious heat builds within her lower belly, a tantalizing promise of a third, explosive orgasm. Her breath comes in the form of ragged panting, throat dry, muscles aching and begging for rest. It hurts and it's delicious and she wants to stop and she wants it to never end.

"Emma-- please-- I can't-- please--" She doesn't even know what she's pleading for anymore, only knows that she's babbling something nonsensical and actually keening for release, eyes squeezed shut and fingers digging into Emma's flesh, bodies rocking aggressively together, skin slick with sweat, her insides quivering as if she's seconds away from shattering.

"One more time," Emma coaxes gently against Trina's throat.

"I-- oh-- I can't--"

"You can, my Queen. Come for me."

Emma's thumb comes down on her clit with an intimate flick.

When Trina shatters, she's screaming Emma's name.

Finally, _finally. Oh, gods, yes._

She's blinded by a burst of white behind her eyelids, her throat raw as she cries out, arching her spine and jerking up into Emma and shaking as if she's going to fall apart. Somewhere, as if in the distance, she thinks she hears Emma's voice, a raspy _"I love you, Regina,"_ but she's too far gone to truly register it. The delicious heat expands from within her very core, spasms of pleasure rippling through her body, her mind going blissfully blank. She doesn't even realize she's blacked out until she trembles back into awareness minutes later, Emma's hot tongue soothing the sore bite marks on her neck and her fingers easing ever so gently out of her body. Moving seems to require energy that she no longer possesses, and Trina can do nothing more than sigh in dreamy content, her head lolling to one side so that her temple bumps against Emma's.

"Emma," she breathes out, dazed and exhausted, a lazy smile stretching across her red lips. Emma gently brushes the damp hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears and then pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep," is her gentle command, eyes a bright green again, even in the darkness of the room. Trina wants to complain, to argue that she hasn't even so much as touched Emma yet, but the blonde is tucking the blankets up around them and stroking her face oh so affectionately, and the temptation to drift into unconsciousness in her arms - sated and worn out - is impossible to resist.

 

**END OF 'M' RATED SCENE**

 

Saying goodbye is the hardest thing she has to do that night. She stays for as long as she can allow herself to, staring at Trina as the brunette sleeps and memorizing her face all over again in painstaking detail. She'd brought the other woman to climax three times in a row without even letting her touch her back. How could she? When it felt like her heart was already laying in shattered ruins, so utterly broken and hopeless. No; she pleasured Trina only so that she could have one final memory of her wife's familiar body beneath her, to hear her throaty moans and to hear her name cried out into the darkness. She wouldn't have been able to bear letting Trina touch her back. It would do no good to let the woman see her cry.

When she finally slides out of bed and back into her clothes, tears are falling freely down her cheeks, her chest tightly constricted with what she's all too familiar with.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice cracking. She'd once promised Regina that she would never leave her in the middle of the night - that they would always wake up in the mornings in each other's arms. But this isn't Regina, this is Trina, and she has no right to awaken in this bed in the morning.

Somehow, she still feels like she's breaking a promise.

Leaning over the bed, she places the softest of kisses to Trina's cheek. This will be the last time, she thinks to herself. This can't happen again. She can't make love to a woman who will never truly be hers, a woman who has her wife's face and voice and personality and yet is not her wife at all. She can't have her heart breaking over and over again.

"Goodbye, Regina," she whispers against Trina's hair, and then she slips from the room and closes the door silently behind her as if she were never there at all.

 

The party has mostly ended during their absence, most people gone or asleep on the couches in tangles of limbs that Emma avoids looking at. She doesn't know where Ruby and Belle had gone off to with Tom, and frankly doesn't care. No one disrupts her retreat and she uses the short walk across the street in the suddenly cool night air to sober up and clear her head. Not that she really needs it - she was sober during sex. Enough so that she remembers it all in clear detail and is sure it will haunt her dreams for decades to come.

She's not sure if she should consider it a gift or a curse.

The house is quiet when she lets herself in. Grace is on the couch, the TV volume on very low, and perks up from her sleepy state when she realizes Emma is finally home.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Swan," she greets softly, mindful of Henry asleep in the next room. Emma is too tired to correct her title and simply fumbles with her purse to pay Grace for babysitting. "Henry was a little angel. I've put the remainders of dinner in the fridge and tidied up the house a bit after I put him to bed."

"Thank you, Grace," Emma murmurs, pressing a bill into the teen's hand and then stumbling past her to turn off the television. Grace looks at the money and blinks.

"Oh, Mrs. Swan, this is too much for one day--" She breaks off in a gasp and Emma turns to look at her, confused. "Your back is bleeding!"

She hadn't even noticed until Grace pointed it out, but now the eight little crescent-shaped cuts on her back start to sting. Emma winces and curses silently in her mind.

"It's fine, don't worry about me. Thank you for today, Grace. I stayed out later than I thought I would, so just…" She waves a hand absently at the generous bill in the girl's hand. "A bonus for staying late. Get home safely, okay?"

The girl's brow crinkles with concern, but she understands that there is no arguing with the Chief of Police, so she simply nods and bids Emma a polite goodnight, picking up her bike from where it lays in the yard and riding off into the night. Emma locks the front door behind her and presses her forehead to the wood for a long few minutes, breathing deeply.

In, out, in, out.

Henry is conked out in his own bed when she peers into his bedroom a few minutes later, snoring lightly, his limbs spread out like a flailing baby octopus. Emma's lips twitch into a smile that lasts until she returns to her own bedroom, stripping down and padding into the bathroom on autopilot. She locks the door and turns on the shower, waiting until the hot water is steaming up the room before stepping inside. Somehow she ends up sitting on the floor of the shower stall, arms wrapped around her legs, water running down her body and stinging the cuts on her back, turning the water pink before it swirls down the drain by her feet.

Everything hurts. It hurts to the point where she can't even lash out or sob into her arms. She just sits there, defeated, head resting back against the wall, the water spraying down on her until there's no way to differentiate it from the tears running down her cheeks.

Regina's body is a phantom feeling in her arms, lost to her forever - yet also right across the street, no longer hers. Most likely being tucked into the embrace of a man by now.

She hugs her legs tighter to her chest and doesn't drag herself into bed until hours later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we kick off this chapter with some lazy morning smut! It's all in italics, feel free to skip it if you'd prefer. Updates for "Touch & See" and "A Regrettable Deception" are in the works as soon as I'm done working on my current movie contract in another two weeks. 15+ hours every day makes for very little writing time. -sigh-

_"_ _We have to get up, Emma."_

_"No we don't."_

_Emma grumbles, still half-asleep, nuzzling herself against Regina's chest, her face pillowed against the brunette's breasts. Regina sighs, stroking her fingers through the younger woman's long blonde curls, each hair gleaming gold in the late morning sunlight._

_"You, my dear, are the single most irresponsible Queen I've ever met," she says, though it's with fond amusement in her voice. She can feel Emma's lips curve into a smile against her skin._

_"Good thing I'm married to the single most responsible Queen_ I've _ever met," the blonde hums, turning her head to latch onto a dusky nipple. Regina groans and laughs, trying to roll away to little avail. Her wife is already shifting her weight to pin her down, tongue swirling around the stiffening peak, fingers tracing feather-light patterns over her other breast._

_"Emma, we've already missed breakfast with your idiotic parents," Regina complains halfheartedly, grabbing a corner of their fur blanket and trying to swat Emma with it. "Aren't you hungry?"_

_"Mmhmm," the blonde hums lazily against her skin._

_"Don't say it--"_

_"--Hungry for you."_

_Regina groans at the blonde's laughter, rolling her eyes as she manages to pull herself free and shift onto her side, facing away. That's about as far as she gets, because Emma promptly plasters herself to the brunette's back like a second skin, limbs wrapping around her body in a koala hug._

_"We really do need to get up," Regina huffs._

_"Quickie," Emma purrs into her ear. Regina has no clue why Emma decided to make up a strange, butchered word for it, but by this point she knows exactly what "quickie" means and a small shiver of temptation runs up her spine._

_"You're a terrible influence," she grumbles, already relaxing back into the warm embrace. Emma just chuckles against her ear, one hand flat on Regina's belly and sliding down until her fingers brush through dark curls and dip into the wetness below._

_"Look how wet you are, my Queen," the blonde teases, fingers toying with the brunette's nether lips without entering. Regina reaches back to dig her fingers into the firm flesh of Emma's ass cheek, a low growl rumbling from her throat._

_"You said 'quickie,' don't tease me!"_

_Emma's laughing again, jostling her back at the same time she slides two fingers into her waiting heat. Regina relaxes once more and strokes her palm over Emma's ass in apology as the blonde pumps in and out of her with steady, easy motions. It's slow and unhurried, the kind of lazy morning sex that Regina finds herself giving in to nearly every day now, and soon the familiar coil of pleasure is building up within her lower belly, a pleasant heat that has her toes curling and her head tilting back._

_"Mm, Em-ma, right there," Regina purrs when Emma's fingers curl just a little higher, strumming the ribbed flesh within her. Emma does it again, twice more, and then Regina's stuttering out her gentle climax, breath hitched as heat trickles through her body straight down to her core like a soft wave washing over her, a pleasurable sigh escaping her lips as Emma presses kisses to her shoulder. The blonde wiggles her fingers against the hot muscles holding them hostage, easing them out only after her wife sinks back bonelessly against her._

_"Yummy," Emma says with a salacious wink, licking her fingers clean. "_ Now _we can get up."_

_"I think not!" Regina huffs, rolling over to pin the blonde under her now. "Stop skipping my turn. I missed breakfast too, you know."_

_"Did you now?" Emma questions innocently, resting her hands behind her head and giving a coy, lazy smile. "Well, by all means, your Majesty."_

_Regina scowls playfully and kisses that infuriating smirk off of Emma's face, then she slides down the blonde's body to put her mouth to good use elsewhere._

 

The first thing she's aware of is how wonderfully sore her body is. Every muscle aches from a night of writhing and straining and clenching for release. Sweat has cooled on her skin but she's kept warm by the blankets neatly tucked around her body, still slightly damp but not uncomfortably so. Trina moans softly, stretching out her legs, nearly purring in delight when the lingering stickiness between her thighs reminds her of the earth shattering orgasms she'd been given only hours prior. She's never _not_ reciprocated before, never fell asleep before she could return the favour, but instead of embarrassment she decides to see it as a challenge. She'll just owe her beautiful neighbor three delicious orgasms in return. She certainly deserves it, for making Trina black out mid-coitus.

Even Tom's never done that before, and they've had their marathons.

"Em-ma," she husks as she rolls over, nearly salivating in anticipation of tasting the blonde for the first time. Her dream, though fuzzy and already fading, felt so real that she desperately wants to know if Emma tastes the way she'd tasted in the dream world.

… Only there's no one there, the other side of the bed empty in the gray morning light. Trina jerks up into a sitting position, looking around the room and towards the ensuite bathroom, hoping that the blonde had simply gone to freshen up or…

"Emma?" Silence is the only answer. Emma's dress and bra, which had been pooled on the floor just at the end of the bed, are gone. Trina's breath stills as she blinks in disbelief.

Emma left her in the middle of the night.

The pang of betrayal tears through her chest so quickly that Trina sucks in a breath through her teeth, expression crumpling even as she questions her own extreme reaction to it. She's known Emma for all of two days, and their night together had been mind-blowing - for her, at least - so why is she so upset? She's never cared whether or not a playmate spent the night.

It shouldn't hurt. Trina sets her jaw and frowns at herself. She shouldn't be upset. She doesn't have the _right_ to be upset. Emma owes her nothing because Emma isn't hers (and oh, why is it that that phrase sounds so strangely wrong?)

No. She won't be hurt by this. She'll just appreciate the amazing night for what it was and hunt down the blonde for a little reciprocation later. Damned if she doesn't want to know what Emma tastes like in real life.

Sliding out of bed, she pads into the ensuite and showers quickly, her sore muscles relaxing under the spray of hot water. She dries off and throws on a silk robe, brushing her hair back in the mirror when she finally notices the love bite on her neck, standing out starkly even against her dark olive skin.

Fingertips graze over the tender spot almost reverently, her eyes darkening as she remembers the feeling of Emma's teeth and lips on her flesh. She never thought she'd enjoy being bitten or marked like this, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to go flaunting the love bite around town, as if staking her claim on the Chief's affections.

Not that she'd actually stake a claim on the Chief's affections. Emma is free to do as she pleases and besides, Trina's married. She closes her eyes for a moment, sighing at her own pointless internal thoughts, before finally heading out of the bedroom.

The house has been cleared out of guests except for two. Tom's in the kitchen making pancakes while Ruby and Belle sit at the kitchen island looking sleepy, their chins propped up on their arms and their eyes at half mast. They're all up earlier than usual, but Ruby and Belle still have to go home and change for work, and Trina's never slept well in an empty bed anyway.

"Good morning, beautiful," Tom greets cheerfully as Trina pads barefoot into the open-spaced kitchen. "Pancakes?"

"Just coffee right now, thank you," she murmurs with an appreciative smile, moving to greet the other two brunette women while her husband drifts towards the coffee machine. "Enjoy yourselves last night?" she teases as she kisses Belle and then Ruby. The taller brunette hums lazily against her mouth, hooking a finger into Trina's robes to keep her there a moment longer.

"Mmhmm. Though not nearly as much as when you're there with us," Ruby drawls after they part. "No offense, Tom."

The man just chuckles, setting a plate of pancakes down in front of her and a mug of coffee in front of his wife. "No offense taken. Strawberries and whip are in the fridge if anyone wants it."

"Ooh, whipped cream." Belle hops up and helps herself to the contents of the fridge, more than familiar with the Deckers' house, while Ruby just drowns her pancakes in syrup.

"Does Emma want pancakes?" Tom asks after a moment, leaning to peer into the hallway when he realizes the blonde hasn't made an appearance yet. Trina takes a slow sip of her coffee to stall for a few seconds before answering.

"She already left." 

Tom's eyebrows shoot up as Belle and Ruby exchange an odd look. "Really? But it's…" he glances over at the clock. "Five-thirty in the morning. What time did she leave?"

"I'm not sure," the brunette admits. "I was asleep."

"Huh." Tom quirks his head a little as he plates pancakes for himself. "Maybe she got shy once the alcohol wore off. Did you two have fun at least?"

"Oh, she was good," says Trina, perching herself on the bar stool next to Ruby, absently brushing her short hair behind her ear as a pleasant warmth rises to her cheeks. " _Very_ good."

"Damn, Treen," Ruby whistles low when she notices the revealed hickey. "I didn't peg the Chief as the biting type. You wanna rethink seducing our boss, Belle?"

"We might have to," Belle murmurs, eyeing the dark teeth marks. "That's kind of hot."

Trina actually blushes under their darkening gazes as Tom leans over to appraise the hickey. He's a gentle man, always has been, and Trina already knows from the way he quirks his brow that she'd never be able to convince him to bite her as hard as Emma did.

"Did you like it?" he asks, without any accusation in his tone. It's his way of checking that she'd consented to it, and she smiles appreciatively at his concern.

"I found it surprisingly enjoyable," she says, and he smiles and nods and returns to his breakfast, pacified.

 

 

"But I wanna come wif you," Henry whines, his lower lip jutted out and his bowl of cereal untouched in front of him. Emma's eye twitches from lack of sleep and she presses a palm to it, sighing heavily.

"I have to work, Henry. I can't bring you with me, but Grace will stay here and play with you, okay?" She lifts her mug to take a sorely needed gulp of coffee, but Henry lets loose a wail and her hand jerks in surprise, splashing the dark liquid down the chest of her crisp white dress shirt. She barely manages to hold back a curse.

 _"Henry,"_ she almost begs, setting down the mug as he cries and gulps air. But she doesn't trust him not to make a mess, so she moves the bowl of cereal and milk safely out of his reach and leaves him crying in his chair as she ducks into her bedroom to change. She doesn't have another clean dress shirt right now, leaving her in a plain white tank top that isn't nearly as professional as she'd wanted to look for her first day on the job.

The doorbell rings and she sighs in relief, more than happy to let the babysitter deal with Henry's tantrum.

"Please behave for Grace," she says as she heads back into the main room and grabs her bag. "She'll only give you your breakfast back when you've calmed down."

He buries his face into his arms on the table and gives a muffled wail of discontent. Emma hurries to the door and swings it open for Grace.

Except it's not Grace.

"Re--" The name dies on her tongue and she swallows, steeling herself and throwing on a mask so fast that it would give anyone whiplash. "Trina."

"Good morning, Emma," the brunette husks, eyes drinking in the blonde's bare arms and the way the tank top hugs her lean form. "How are you today?"

Emma's lips part, but the sound of Henry sniveling prompts her to step forward and pull the door shut behind her, sealing off her son from Trina. She refuses to subject him to the same torture she's suffering - to know that someone you love is right there and yet just out of reach, both yours and not yours at all. She won't put him through that cruelty.

"I'm fine," Emma says blandly, her voice lacking inflection, hoping that perhaps Trina will take it as a sign of disinterest and stop approaching her. Trina only leans in closer, lowering her voice into a deep purr.

"Really? Because I'm wonderfully sore from what you did to me last night, and it seems terribly unfair to leave you unsatisfied. I'd be more than happy to rectify that tonight after you're off work, Chief Swan."

"Mrs. Swan?" Grace's young voice frees Emma from the frozen state she'd been in just a moment ago, dragging her gaze away from Trina's salacious smile to where the teen approaches them, rolling her bike along at her side.

"Good morning, Grace," Emma says, her tone stiff. "Kid's having a bit of a tantrum right now. I took his cereal away so he wouldn't spill it. If you don't mind feeding him after he's calmed down…"

"Not a problem, I'll take care of him," the teen chirps, smiling sweetly. Then to Trina, "Good morning, Mrs. Decker!"

"Good morning, dear," Trina says, flashing a polite smile and shifting out of Emma's personal space again as if she hadn't just been soliciting her for sex. "You're babysitting Chief Swan's son?"

"Yep."

"Go on in, Grace," Emma cuts in, stepping aside just enough for the teenager to get past her while still positioning herself between the door and Trina. Grace drops her bike on the lawn and slips by, pausing in the doorway.

"Is your back alright, Mrs. Swan?"

"What's wrong with your back?" Trina questions, confusion in her eyes. Emma avoids her gaze.

"I'm fine, Grace, thank you. I'll see you this evening." She waits until Grace has shut and locked the door behind her before giving Trina a cursory glance, looking somewhere off to the side of the brunette's brow instead of directly into her eyes. "I have to get to work. Excuse me."

Ducking around the other woman, Emma strides for the Bug, a chill running up her spine when Trina's hand catches her wrist and reminds her of the way she and Regina used to fight. Their explosive arguments always ended in make-up sex.

_"Where do you think you're going?" Regina demands, jerking on her wrist to spin Emma back around. It's fiery passion, aggressive in the way that they both tend to be, never crossing the line yet just rough enough to spark the lust in their fierce gazes. "Don't walk away from me in the middle of an argument!"_

"Emma, wait," Trina says, confusion and frustration blended together in her voice as she tugs Emma back with a strong grip. "What's going on with you? Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't--" Her voice wavers and she clears her throat. "It's nothing. I'm just feeling sick today. I'm going to be late."

Without meeting Trina's gaze, Emma pulls her wrist free and all but throws herself into her yellow Bug, starting up the engine and driving off without a backwards glance. Trina stares after the vehicle with a lump of anxious discomfort sitting heavily in her gut.

 

 

The station is just as cheerful and playful as it was when she'd first visited, and Emma's stomach roils with unease. Belle is, as she expected, at the front desk already, but she doesn't have her nose in a book today. Instead, she looks vaguely concerned.

"Morning, Chief," she greets carefully, standing to follow Emma further into the station. Most of the others are out on patrol, so the bullpen is quiet this morning except for Leroy as he hums under his breath and mops the floor. "We missed you at breakfast. Tom made pancakes."

"I had to go home, a babysitter was watching Henry," Emma reminds her brusquely, her expression even. "Is Deputy Page in? She said she'd get me fitted."

"Yeah, she's here," Belle murmurs, frowning slightly. "Lily!"

Lily Page pops her head out from a doorway across the bullpen with a lazy smile and a lift of her hand. "Morning, Chief. I was just sorting through gear for you. Come on in."

Leaving Belle near the entrance, Emma strides across the room. Ruby appears out of nowhere to intercept her, which draws a sigh from the blonde as they walk side by side. She should have known that she'd get interrogated after last night; Belle and Ruby are Trina's friends first, even if Emma _is_ their new boss.

"Why'd you sneak out?" the brunette questions, voice low. "According to Trina, you two had a hell of a good time."

"I had to let the babysitter go home," Emma deadpans.

"You could've said goodbye to Trina first instead of slinking off without a word."

"I'm not a swinger, Ruby. Your rules or whatever don't apply to me." Her tone is sharper than intended and she immediately softens her frown when Ruby winces. No matter her own issues, the two brunettes did have her back last night, and they don't deserve her frustration. "Damn it. Sorry, Ruby. I'm just… I don't think I should be involved with her again. Last night was a mistake."

"I thought it was what you wanted," the younger woman said quietly. Emma's gaze drops to the floor.

"I thought so too. But you have Belle, and anyone else who joins you is a game. I don't have anyone, and to Trina, I _am_ the game. I just-- I can't, Ruby."

Emma grits her teeth and steps into the room where Lily awaits them, Ruby following in silence. The Deputy waves at the wall of weaponry with a grin plastered to her face, jerking one thumb behind her to another hall that leads to their personal gun range.

"The gun chooses the officer, Chief. Let's test your aim, shall we?"

 

 

Music plays softly throughout the house when Trina finally shuffles home, frustration bubbling through her at Emma's brisk exit. She finds Tom laid out on a lounger in the back patio, shirtless in a pair of swim shorts, lazily smearing sunscreen on himself before the sun gets too hot.

"Hey," he says, hearing her heels on the stone. "That was fast. How'd it go?"

"She went to work." Trina sits on the lounger next to his with a frown. Sensing his wife's displeasure, Tom sits up and tosses the bottle of sunscreen aside, giving her his full and undivided attention.

"What happened? Did she regret last night?"

"I don't know. She didn't say anything about last night and she brushed me off on her way out. Did I push her too far, too fast? It was the Quaalude, wasn't it?"

"The Quaalude probably gave her a nudge," he admits with a little shrug of his shoulder, "but it wouldn't make her do something she would normally never do. Maybe it was just a little soon. Give her some time, I'm sure she'll come around."

"You talk as if you know her," Trina says, vaguely joking and arching a brow at him.

"Anyone would be crazy to not want you, babe." He smiles indulgently.

"Be a dear and make me a drink." She makes a shooing motion at him with her hand and Tom laughs, popping up and heading over to the beverage bar of their patio. As he fiddles with the blender and pulls fruit from the mini fridge, she snags the bright red landline and balances it on her hip, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder and dialing in a number while twirling the cord between her free fingers. A familiar voice picks up on the third ring.

"Winnetka police station, Officer French speaking, how may we assist you?"

"Belle. Is the Chief in now?"

 

 

"Booth is gonna be so mad," Lily laughs, grinning as Ruby scrubs the whiteboard and scrawls out 'Swan' in third place, bumping Booth down to fourth. In first place on their high-score list is Fa, the serious-faced Asian woman Emma had met the day previous, while second place belongs to Lily Page.

"I'd say Glass was rolling in his grave, but the old codger's still alive," Ruby snorts. "Bet he never thought he'd live to see the day our station's top three sharpshooters were all women."

"We have to take a photograph and mail it to him," says Lily, already smirking and rustling around for a camera. Emma sets aside her newly chosen pistol with gentle care after having tested half a dozen of them in the shooting range. The weight and kickback of this one feels good in her hands and all she needs now is the holster to go with it.

"So, when do I get my uniform?"

"As soon as I get a photo of this. Hang on." Lily pulls a Kodak Instamatic X-15 from a drawer and attaches a flash cube before aiming and taking the photo. One of the bulbs in the cube explodes with a flash of light and Emma blinks away the spots in her vision, having made the mistake of staring at the curious device when the flash went off.

"Hey, Page," Ruby says, getting the other brunette's attention as she leans up behind Emma and peers over the blonde's shoulder with a toothy smile. Lily pulls the lever on the camera, aims it at them, and another of the bulbs goes off with a pop and a flash of light. Emma barely has time to smile for the picture.

"How long until we get those photographs?" Emma inquires as Lily returns the camera to the safety of a desk drawer.

"Couple of weeks as soon as I send in the film roll to get developed."

"Trina could develope them for us, she's got her own dark room," Ruby says without thought, before her eyes cut to Emma and her lips purse shut in apology. The blonde just sighs.

"So, you have any spare uniforms for me?"

"Right this way, Chief." Lily leads her back out into the bullpen, across the room, and into the women's locker room, all the while ignoring the topic of Trina Decker. She's not one to stick her nose into someone else's business if said business has no consequence on her. (That, and she's already overheard enough from Belle and Ruby earlier this morning, and figures she's better off not knowing unless Emma wants to talk about it.)

"We had a new shipment delivered a couple weeks ago when they were preparing for your transfer. There are a couple different sizes since they weren't sure of your measurements." Lily pulls a box out from behind a few supply racks in the back closet, popping it open and pulling out plastic wrapped parcels. The brand new uniforms are still crisp with fold lines and Emma chews her lip as she unfolds one, examining the dark suit in her hands. The Chief of Police uniform is more decorated than a normal officer's, and by the fitted cut, she assumes they had it made specifically for a woman. She's not sure if she should feel offended or not, as her appearance is hardly important when she's in the line of duty. Granted, as Chief, she'll hardly be out on the streets in the first place, but that's a rule she plans on breaking later.

"Seriously?" She questions with a huff, tossing the uniform across the sink counter so that she can undress. Lily leans against a locker while Ruby sprawls back on the bench. "It's like I'm going to a formal dinner or something."

"It's what Chiefs wear," Lily says with a shrug. "To be honest, they don't come down here to check on us very often, so you could wear one of our basics if you want. Hell, come to work in a leather jacket for all we care. Winnetka's not much for propriety."

"Careful, I just might show up in leather tomorrow," Emma grumbles, shucking her tanktop and slacks and turning towards the counter to grab her new uniform. The hiss of Ruby's breath has her stiffening up.

"The heck happened to your back? Did Trina do that to you?"

"It's not a big deal." Emma shrugs, ignoring the mild discomfort of her bra strap shifting against a cut. Most of the little crescent shaped wounds are minor, bruised indents. The deeper ones that managed to break skin and bleed have dried and the skin only tugs a little when she stretches her back. "It was… one rough night. Won't happen again anyway."

She shakes out the uniform top to wear but Ruby grabs her wrist and Lily goes for the first aid kit on the wall.

"Some of those broke skin, Chief. At least let us clean them up and cover them. No way you managed to disinfect them yourself, right?"

Emma relents with a nod, in no mood to argue with either officer as Ruby gets her seated on the bench and Lily takes up a position behind her. Within minutes, she's gritting her teeth and grunting as Lily swabs rubbing alcohol across each open cut.

"Hold still, you baby. I've just gotta get some antibiotic cream on them and then we'll slap on a couple bandaids."

"Emma?" The voice comes from the doorway of the locker room, deep and husky. Emma visibly winces but doesn't turn around, remaining where she is, straddling the bench with Ruby seated in front of her and Lily tending to her bare back. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the edges of the bench, and Ruby gives her a sympathetic look before standing up to intercept their intruder.

"Hey, Trina, you shouldn't be in here," the leggy brunette murmurs, trying to herd her out of the locker room. Trina remains rooted to the spot, staring at the pale skin of Emma's back in surprise, and then glancing down at her own hands, finally noticing the remnants of rust-red trapped beneath her black-painted fingernails.

"Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry," she says, somewhat stung when Emma still won't turn around to look at her. "I didn't realize-- did I hurt you? Is that why you're mad at me?"

"Now's not a good time," Ruby warns, putting a hand on Trina's shoulder now and urging her to leave, knowing far too well that the woman is terribly tenacious when she wants to be. Lily continues tending wordlessly to Emma's back, dabbing on ointment and then covering up the cuts with bandaids, but her expression is stern and she jumps up to put herself between the women when Trina pushes past Ruby.

"Please, I just need to speak to her privately for a moment," Trina says, drawing up to her full height as Lily crosses her arms. The tomboyish brunette shakes her head, unmoved.

"You can't be in here, ma'am. This is a restricted area. If you wish to speak to the Chief, you will have to wait out in the lobby and make an appointment like everyone else."

Trina scowls, but even her fiercest glare has no effect on the stone-faced Deputy. When Emma remains turned away and silent, she says, quietly, "I'll be waiting outside then," and grudgingly leaves the locker room.

Lily packs up the remains of the first aid kit in silence as Ruby retrieves the Chief's uniform from the bench and hands it over to the blonde, pretending not to notice Emma swiping her eyes.

"Want me to go send her away?" Ruby asks wearily. Emma shakes her head.

"She can do what she wants. I have a job to do." She carefully pulls on her new uniform, adjusting to the feel of bandages taped to her back. Her chest aches in a way that makes her want to curl up and cry but she pushes the feeling aside with a vengeance. "I take it I have paperwork to do, Deputy?"

"Tons of it," Lily agrees, already moving on. "I've got it all stacked on your desk. It'll probably take you most of today but once you're all caught up, you'll be ready to take charge. Until then, I've got the team handled, if that's fine with you."

"Yeah, that's fine." Emma readjusts her lapel, glancing appraisingly at herself in the mirror and deciding that she probably will make up her own dress-code from this day onward because she kind of looks like a snob in this suit. "I'll be in my office."

The words are awkward on her tongue but she straightens up like she's entirely in control of the situation and strides from the room, the two brunettes hot on her heels. From across the bullpen she can see Trina pacing in the waiting area in front of the lobby, lips moving as she speaks to Belle at the front desk. Averting her gaze, Emma flees into her office and draws the blinds over the glass windows, hiding herself away from view. As Lily had promised, there's a thick stack of paperwork on the mahogany desk, and Emma is willing to distract herself with anything.

 

 

"You sure I can't get you anything?" There's sympathy in Belle's gaze as the younger brunette tidies up the front desk, twenty minutes away from the end of her shift. Trina sits in a waiting chair just across the lobby, frown marks etched into her features from having waited there for almost six hours. Ruby had done a lunch run earlier that day and brought her a sandwich and coffee out of pity, but it's past dinner time now and her stomach rumbles with hunger.

"No, thank you." Trina sighs, tapping her foot against the linoleum. Tired eyes lift to the clock on the wall and she purses her lips. "Is she still in her office?"

"Hasn't come out as far as I can tell," Belle admits, leaning back in her chair to peer across the bullpen again. The shuttered windows of the Chief's office haven't moved since an hour ago when she'd noticed Emma peeking out between the blinds like a small animal checking for predators. "Maybe you should give her some space, Treen. She's going through a rough patch right now."

"I just want to talk," the older brunette sighs, almost petulant. "We had such a good time together, but now I feel like I've done something to upset her. I wish I knew what."

Her eyes cut to Belle in a pleading way and the younger brunette immediately grimaces. "I'm sorry, but it's not for me to tell, Trina. I'm sure she'll come around, she just needs time."

Ruby joins them in the lobby a moment later, already changed into yoga pants and a loose sweatshirt, her long, red-streaked hair pulled back into a ponytail. "You're off in ten, babe. Go get changed."

Belle nods and putters off to the locker room while Ruby takes her place at the front desk, dropping her duffel unceremoniously on the floor. Her gaze locks with Trina's across the small lobby and her lips tug into a grimace much like her girlfriend's.

"Still waiting her out, huh?"

"Yes," the Latina sighs.

"You know she's not going to come out until you're gone. Being around you isn't easy for her."

"Stop with the gossipin'," a heavily accented voice says from behind. Ruby cranes her head around as Merida, one of their night shift officers, enters the lobby. The woman is short and built like a little brick house, with a head of unruly orange-red hair that clashes with her uniform.

"I'm not gossiping," Ruby argues. "I'm just trying to put some sense into her."

"Sense? In Trina Decker?" Merida snorts and Trina rolls her eyes.

"Good evening to you too, Officer DunBroch."

Merida harrumphs. "Good _bye,_ Mrs. Decker. I'll not have ye stalking our Chief when she wants to be left well enough alone." When Trina opens her mouth, she interrupts again, "She'll talk to ye when she's ready. Go home."

Trina looks to Ruby for backup, but when even the lanky brunette shoots her a sympathetic look and a shrug of the shoulder, she feels herself sag with defeat.

"Fine. Ruby, can you please just… just let her know that I'm sorry for whatever it is I did?"

"I'll pass it along," Ruby says simply. When Trina's gone, she and Merida exchange a weary look.

"Is she gonna be a problem?" the Scotswoman asks, pointing after Trina.

"I hope not. Chief just needs some time, I'm sure they'll make amends eventually."

Merida just harrumphs again, hip-checking Ruby out of the way to take over the front desk for the night. Ruby heads over to the office and knocks before poking her head in.

"Chief?"

"Ruby. Hi." Emma sits slouched at her desk, elbow-deep in paperwork and looking frazzled. "What's up?"

"Thought you might like to know that Trina's finally left for the evening."

"Oh. Thanks." Emma frowns and glances back down at the mess laid out on her desk.

"You've been holed up in here all day," Ruby says, eyes cutting to the clock. "And your shift ended half an hour ago. Go home."

"I thought I was the one giving the orders around here," Emma tries to joke. Ruby narrows her eyes at her until she sighs and throws her hands up. "Okay, okay. Leaving."

"Go relax, spend some time with that cute little boy of yours." The brunette leans against the doorframe as Emma puts everything away.

"Maybe I'll have you babysit him next time, then you'll think twice about putting 'relax' and 'Henry' in the same sentence."

"I'd actually be willing to do that. Belle's been dropping hints about wanting children in the future, might be a good experience for us to spend time with a toddler."

"I'll keep that in mind." The blonde straightens and follows Ruby out of the office in the direction of the locker room, bumping into Belle as the younger brunette steps out in a skirt and blouse, bag over one shoulder.

"Hey," says Belle, glancing quickly towards the lobby and relaxing when she realizes that Trina has finally left. "You alright?"

"I will be. Goodnight, Belle. Ruby."

"Night, Chief," the two brunettes echo softly, watching the blonde disappear into the locker room. They bid Merida a goodnight on their way out and clamber into Ruby's bright red Jeep in the parking lot, the large vehicle clashing against the yellow Bug they're parked next to.

"Things went to shit real fast," Ruby exhales, sinking into her seat. Belle pulls on her seatbelt and seeks out her girlfriend's hand on the gear shift.

"Did we mess up? Should we have kept her away from Trina?"

"Trina would have gone after her anyway. Remember what happened with her old neighbors?" Both brunettes share a wry smile at the memory. "Best we can do is be there for our Chief while she decides what she wants to do."

"And Trina?" Belle questions, hating that their loyalties are being tested between their new Chief and their old friend. Ruby grimaces.

"When it comes to the Chief? We can't let our personal friendships get in the way of our job. Emma is our boss and I don't think she's going anywhere anytime soon. We have to have her back. We're a team."

"When did you get so wise?" Belle teases softly, giving her hand a squeeze. Ruby leans over the center console to press a kiss to her cheek.

"When the Chief said she was basically a game to Trina," she admits softly. Belle's expression falls in understanding and they squeeze their hands together, wondering if the lifestyle - their lifestyle, Trina's lifestyle - is going to ruin Emma Swan.

 

 

The house is quiet when she returns, setting her keys down gently in the key basket and hanging up her new suit in the entryway closet. Grace is curled up in an armchair in the living room, book in hand, but her expression is distracted.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Swan," she greets, voice soft. Emma manages a smile.

"Hi, Grace. How was today?"

"Henry's been very upset," the girl admits, frowning. "He's refused to eat anything all day. I put him to bed at six but he's come out a few times and had tantrums. He's been quiet for the last half hour, but…"

"I'll check in on him." Emma rustles in her purse, retrieves her wallet, and quickly pays Grace as the girl pulls on her shoes and moves towards the door. "Thanks. Sorry he gave you trouble."

"Oh, no, I don't mind, Mrs. Swan. He's a good boy. He just missed you today."

Picking her bike up off the front lawn, Grace waves a goodnight and pedals off.

Emma locks the door and dumps down the rest of her things, kicking off her shoes and throwing some leftover lasagne in the microwave before wandering towards Henry's room. The door is open a crack and she peers inside to find his tiny form curled up under the blankets. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she pulls the covers back and strokes his hair out of his face with gentle fingers. His eyelids flutter and he blinks up blearily at her, eyes unfocused from his attempts at resisting sleep all evening.

"Mama?"

"Hey, kid." She opens her arms and he immediately crawls into her lap, snuggling up against her with his pudgy fingers gripping her shirt. "I hear you gave Grace trouble today."

"No twouble," he mutters, face buried against her chest. She strokes his back, soaking in the warmth his little body shares.

"Yes, trouble. Wanna tell me why?"

He shakes his head, still hiding his face against her.

"Henry."

"No."

"I can't know what's upsetting you if you don't talk to me."

"No."

"Henry David Mills…"

He lifts his head to peer up at her with big, watery eyes. Despite his tender age, he understands the meaning behind the use of his full name. In this world he goes by Henry Swan, but Mills is his Mommy's surname, and his Mama only uses it when she's being very serious.

"I missed you," he says, voice wobbly. Emma melts under his pout.

"I missed you too." She hugs him tightly, feeling his chubby arms wrap around her neck and his head bury itself under her chin as he sniffles, loud and wet, no doubt smearing nose goo on her collar.

"I don't want you to go 'way again," he cries.

"I'm sorry, baby. I know, I know. But we've talked about this. I have to go to work."

"I go too."

"But then who will stay here and protect the house with Grace?" She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, a serious expression on her face. "I need a Deputy to hold the fort here while I'm away. I thought you were my Deputy?"

Henry's nose scrunches and he purses his lips stubbornly. Emma gives a dramatic sigh.

"I see. I guess I'll have to hire a new Deputy, then."

"No!" His nostrils flare in indignation. "I'm Deputy!"

"But a Deputy has to guard the house, and you said you don't want to do that."

"No. I do it. I'm Deputy." He thumps his little fist against her shoulder, scowling fiercely.

"Are you sure? It's a big job, and if you're not up to it…"

"My job!" he insists, almost whining now. "I gawd the house! No find anotho' Debudy!"

Emma has to resist the urge to laugh. His pronunciation gets immensely worse when he's worked up, and it's absolutely adorable. Instead, she nods seriously and says, "Okay, Deputy Henry. I'm trusting this job to you, then. You have to take it very seriously, alright?"

"Vewy sewiously," he repeats, very seriously indeed.

"Promise?"

"Pwomise."

"You have to pinky-swear." She holds up a pinky finger and he quickly links their pinkies with a determined shake of the hand, as if the very action itself is a sworn oath. The seriousness of it is quickly diminished when his belly gives a fierce growl.

"Hungwy," he deadpans, one hand pressing flat against his stomach. Emma laughs.

"Next time Grace brings you a meal, you'll eat, won't you?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll let you have some of my lasagne. C'mere." She scoops him up with a dramatic huff, carrying him to the kitchen in time to hear the _ping!_ of the microwave go off. Henry sits against her hip and clings to her shirt as she moves her plate of lasagne onto the kitchen island. The leftovers are still a bit cold in the middle but it fills their bellies and soon they're washed up and snuggled together in Emma's king-sized bed, wrapped up in blankets and with a book in hand.

"Tired yet?" Emma asks, flipping to the next page. Henry stifles a yawn and shakes his head 'no', struggling to act as if he's awake so that he can get one more story read to him. "I don't know how you do it, little man. I'm beat. Would you mind if we just lay down quietly for a little bit? Mama's eyes are sore."

"Okay, just so you feel better," he mumbles, nodding decisively as if doing her a favor. Emma sets the book aside and shuffles down until she's comfortably stretched out on her back with Henry cuddled against her side, his head already laying heavy against her chest.

"Thank you, baby. Just a couple minutes."

"M'kay."

As predicted, Henry is unconscious within seconds, snoring softly and drooling onto her shirt. Emma lets out a sigh of relief and flicks off the bedside lamp, casting the room in darkness so that she can finally get some rest for the night. A million troubling thoughts bounce around in her mind but she ignores them, instead focusing on the soft rise and fall of her young son's shoulders, his body breathing beneath her arm, his nose twitching against her where his face is buried.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening scene smut is in italics. As always, a big thank you to my dedicated 1976 readers who took a chance on this crossover AU - I read every single one of your reviews and I appreciate them immensely! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Again, a reminder that this fic ends with Emma/Trina(Regina), so no need to worry. And to the reviewer who said they really want to see Trina finally getting her turn at pleasuring Emma: soon, dear. Soon. ;)

_ "There's someone coming!" _

_ "Mmph." _

_ "Emma!" Regina hisses, swatting at the blonde head that remains stubbornly planted between her legs, lips and tongue unrelenting as she holds Regina down by her thighs. The brunette is sprawled out rather ungracefully on a large pile of hay and has no other options but to slap a hand over her own mouth and stay as quiet as possible, hoping that whoever is entering the stables will not walk further into the back room and see them. _

_ Ignoring even the prospect of being caught - or perhaps trying to make it even harder for her wife to keep quiet - Emma enters the brunette with two fingers and playfully scrapes her teeth against an engorged clit, causing the other woman to buck up into Emma's mouth with a muffled cry. In the next room over, their unsuspecting intruder picks up a few buckets with a clatter and ambles their way back out, ignorant. _

_ "You're going to get us in so much trouble one day," Regina groans, her hand falling away to grab blindly for purchase on the mountains of hay beneath them. Emma chuckles, the sound vibrating against her core and pushing her quickly to orgasm. Another few talented swipes of the blonde's tongue and Regina is jerking her hips up with a strangled gasp and drawn out moan. _

_ "Us, the Queens, in trouble? Who's the stableboy going to rat us out to?" With an infuriating smirk on her face, Emma crawls up Regina's body and kisses her soundly, sharing the taste of her essence while gently tugging the layers of the brunette's dress back down to cover her. _

_ "I'm sure your mother would love to hear about our indecencies in the stables," Regina grumbles, flushing prettily even as she nibbles on her wife's lower lip. "There, we've had a 'roll in the hay,' are you happy now? We're not doing this here ever again. I have hay in uncomfortable places." _

_ "Happy as can be," the blonde replies smugly, green eyes sparkling with mischief. "No more hay, I promise. You can pick our next christening place." _

_ "What makes you think I want to choose somewhere other than our own bed?" _

_ "Why, your majesty, is there truly nowhere in the castle that you'd like us to defile?" Emma asks with a sly quirk of her brow. Regina frowns at her a long moment, then looks away, contemplative. Almost grudgingly, she mutters, _

_ "That stupid statue of a giant dove your mother had placed in our gardens - I've always wanted to bend you over that." _

_ Emma just bursts out laughing. "I love you, Regina." _

 

_ Regina. _

Trina sits up in bed, hands landing on the silk bedsheets and immediately cringing away in surprise, having half expected to feel hay beneath her. Her unusual dream fantasies are getting more and more bizarre, each one feeling more real than the last. What's most frustrating is that the star of her sexual fantasies continues to be Emma Swan - and it doesn't help that she hasn't spoken to her in days. The blonde avoids her like the plague and Trina has been doing her best to give the other woman some space.

What's worse is that the Emma in her dreams had called her by the wrong name.

Regina… That was the name of Emma's ex wife, wasn't it? She hadn't thought about it since that first night but now the thoughts run unbidden through her mind, the name bouncing around in her skull like it's important, like it should mean something. And then it hits her.

Emma had whispered Regina's name when they'd had sex.

A mixture of jealousy and anger rushes through her at the realization. Trina's not vain but she knows what she looks like; how the hell could Emma possibly be thinking of her ex wife when she's with her?

"Trina?" Tom's voice is a husky whisper in the dark, rough from sleep and somewhat addled with confusion as he reaches out blindly and pats his hand along her thigh. "You okay?"

She grasps his hand and gives his fingers an absent squeeze. "I'm fine. Just a weird dream. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

He mumbles something, touching her hip lovingly before drifting off again with a soft snore. She slides out of bed, out to the living room, and pads over to the window, pulling back the curtains to rest her forehead against the cool glass. It's early out, the sky a dull navy fading into grey, not quite pitch black anymore but with no hint of the sun yet, either. Across the street, the Swan house is dark and silent like the rest of the neighborhood. She's not sure if the curtains flutter or not - her eyes might just be playing tricks on her. She's glanced at that house more than she should have these past few days.

"I just want to talk," she whispers, her breath fogging the glass as she sighs and pulls away again, rubbing the coldness from her forehead. Tiptoeing back to the bedroom, Trina slides into bed and nestles herself in under Tom's arm. She's not likely to get much more sleep before the sun comes up, but wandering around during the dead of night is far too lonely to consider.

 

 

"Hey Chief, catch!"

Emma throws up her hands in time to catch the parcel that has been thrown at her head. Grinning at the saran-wrapped muffin, she waves in Ruby's direction before moving to drop off her things in her office. 

Ruby's grandmother owns the nearby diner, aptly named  _ Granny's _ , and Emma has quickly learned that it's a tradition for the elder Lucas to drop off care packages at the station every so often. She's also learned that the officers like to take turns keeping a flat of beer in the trunks of their civilian cars so that whoever's off shift at the same time can hang out in the parking lot and share a drink, and that Wednesday is poker night at Neal's and Saturday is girl's night out at the disco club. The 'family' here is much more close knit than her fellow officers from the city and Emma finds that she kind of likes it; it's been too long since she's had people who genuinely cared about her and made themselves a part of her life. Other than the fact that her officers all vaguely know her sad story (Ruby had ended up blabbing to everyone about the Regina/Trina situation, basically making everyone swear an oath to help keep Trina out of the station,) it's a refreshing change of pace to have so many friendly faces actively being a part of her life.

"So you're coming with us tomorrow night, right?" Lily asks, sticking her head into Emma's office with a quick rap of her knuckles on the door. Emma glances over at the brunette with a wry smile, tossing her bag over the back of her chair as she sets her briefcase and the muffin on the desk.

"Yeah, yeah, Belle already forced me to promise I'd show. I have to warn you, though, I dance like a headless chicken."

Lily just laughs. "I can dig it." She moves to leave, but her eyes fall on something glinting on Emma's finger and she hesitates, confusion passing over her features. "Is that…?"

"Oh." Emma's fingers curl into a loose fist, her hand almost shifting out of view before deciding that she has no reason to hide it. Lily has never been one to judge. "Yes. It's my wedding ring. I thought I'd start wearing it again, where it belongs."

She'd started wearing it on a chain around her neck most of the week, needing something to ground herself to her memories of Regina. It used to be tucked away in a box in her bedside drawer, too painful to look at, too painful a reminder. If she's to continue living in this town and raising Henry here, though, she needs to remember that Regina and Trina are not the same person - not really. This morning she'd finally moved the ring from her necklace onto her finger, taking some semblance of comfort in the memory of her marriage. The one thing that will always be hers, untainted and full of love.

Lily gazes at her, eyes soft before she smiles and nods. "It's a beautiful stone." She's not one to question Emma, either, not now that they've developed a sense of mutual trust between themselves. She disappears again and Emma has another few minutes to sort out her paperwork before heading out into the bullpen.

"Alright, coppers, fall in," she calls, perching herself on her deputy's desk as the rest of the officers shuffle over. She has a folder in hand and Lily hands her another sheet before dropping down into her chair next to Emma's legs.

"Nice threads, Chief," August says with a whistle, tipping his head appreciatively at Emma's red leather jacket. She's forgone the uniform days ago, feeling much more at home in her own clothing than in the stiff and too-fitted officer's suit she'd been provided. Her badge is pinned to the chest in plain sight so she figures it's good enough. Besides, being the boss has to have its perks.

"Thanks, Booth. For that, you can patrol the upper side today."

"Right on," he laughs, pumping his fist in the air.

"Cassidy and Fa, downtown."

Neal grins his boyish grin and Mulan gives a curt nod of her head.

"French, front desk and phones. DunBroch, residentials and school routes."

Belle smiles cheerfully, happy as always to do as Emma asks, while Merida nods and grabs the large container of candies from the desk near the center of the bullpen. Getting to know the town's youth and handing out candies during their visits at the schools was originally Belle's idea, and after getting a resoundingly positive response from the community, they've made it a weekly tradition.

"Lucas, we've gotten a few phone calls about the teenagers prepping for a big bonfire party down by the beach, I'd like you to keep an eye on it and be in the vicinity when things kick off tonight."

"Copy that, boss." Ruby, sitting at her desk with her heels up and her chair tipped back, gives Emma a friendly little salute.

"Page, station duty today. I'll be on patrol."

"Copy," Lily says with a shrug and an easy smile, more than happy to hold down the fort while Emma continues familiarizing herself with the town and all its nooks and crannies.

It takes only another minute for her to give out assignments to all the remaining officers and station personnel, and then with a clap of her hands, Emma stands back up and hands the file to Lily. "Alright, gang. Let's go. It's a beautiful day to keep the streets safe."

There's a little cheer of team spirit and then the group disperses, everyone grabbing their gear and snapping on their holsters on their way out. Emma snaps on her handgun and holster, grabs the muffin from her office, and begins tearing into it as she strides out next to Merida, the redhead next to her snatching a little toffee candy from the bin for herself.

"You do give those to the kids, right?" Emma asks, teasing. Merida playfully crinkles her nose at her Chief, the candy container under her arm.

"Nah, Chief. I just sit in the cruiser and eat the candy myself all day. What do ye think?" The redhead socks her on the arm as they walk out to the lineup of patrol vehicles outside. "When are ye gettin' your wee one into school?"

"I'm still looking at preschools. There's no rush, right?  He's only three."

"Not fer long," Merida chuckles, ducking into a patrol vehicle and putting the container of candy in the passenger seat. A few cars down, Ruby hops into a cruiser while Neal and Mulan hop into another one. Emma's just heading towards the cruiser reserved for her when August appears by her side and tugs at her elbow.

"Incoming," he says, moments before another voice calls out, "Emma!"

Stiffening, Emma turns, her face expressionless as Trina strides through the parking lot towards them. The brunette is in a red and purple summer dress and red heels that accentuate her long legs, and it takes everything Emma has not to smile at the sight. Broken heart or not, the sight of her wife's lookalike in a beautiful dress is breathtaking.

"Mrs. Decker," she says, tone carefully blank. "What can we do for you today?"

If Trina is hurt at all by the impersonal greeting, she doesn't show it. Dark eyes flicker uncertainly at August who remains standing there, arms crossed, before focusing on Emma again. "I wanted to speak to you."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go on patrol right now."

"But Emma--"

"Our Chief is a very busy woman," August says, already placing himself between them as Emma ducks into her cruiser and slams the door shut. "Please step back, ma'am, for your own safety."

He herds her aside as Emma backs the cruiser away from the fence, then she's beelining it out of the parking lot like a car out of hell. Unlike the previous times that Trina has been 'handled' by the officers, she doesn't deflate in disappointment. This time, she pierces August with a harsh glare before storming away, a plan already forming in her eyes.

 

 

It's a terrible plan and Tom had said as much when she'd left the house with the keys to their car, determination on her face and skepticism on his. She hasn't told him about her vivid dreams starring Emma Swan, so he's under the impression that she's just getting a little too obsessed over what she's done to upset Emma and insists that she should really just leave the blonde alone.

"She'll come around eventually, Trina. You can't force the Chief of Police to talk to you," Tom had said, trailing after her when she'd blown through the house like a tornado on five inch stilettos. She'd shaken off his concerns with a dismissive wave and that was that.

Now, as she sits in her parked car and stares across the street to where the Chief's police cruiser is sitting empty, anxiety roils around in her gut and makes her second guess herself.

It's been almost a week and she  _ needs  _ to know.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Trina locks it behind herself and crosses the road, eyes scanning the area for clues as to where the blonde might be. They're parked by the trails that lead down to the river, a popular spot for kids during the hot summer months where they'll bring down coolers and pool toys and float in the sun-warmed water. It's school hours now, though, so the place is quiet.

Stepping gingerly down the rocky path, she makes it halfway to the river before spotting the blonde in a red leather jacket, picking her way along the water and skipping stones over its surface. She tries to quiet her steps as she nears, but Emma speaks up as if unsurprised by her presence.

"How did you find me?"

"It's a small town, Chief. I asked a few people if they've seen the new Chief of Police. Folks pointed me this way." Trina shrugs a little and steps closer, stopping just a few feet from the blonde's back. "Please, it's been almost a week…"

"I probably should've guessed you'd be just as stubborn," Emma murmurs, but she speaks more to herself than to Trina. Wearily, she turns around, green eyes never quite meeting brown ones. "I guess we do need to talk."

Trina had been expecting rejection again - or worse, Emma running off in the other direction, because there's no way in hell she's going to catch up to her in stilettos at this point - so she startles momentarily, taken off guard and unsure of what to say. 

"Look, I need this job, I need a place for my son to grow up, which means I'm here to stay, and you're obviously here to stay." Emma toes at the ground, nudging rocks around with the tip of her boot and staring down at them to keep her gaze occupied. "We're probably going to be neighbors for years, so let's just-- let's just forget about that night and start over, okay?"

That finally gets Trina to snap out of her surprise. "What? But we-- I thought we had fun. Didn't we have fun? You never gave me the chance to--"

"I know," Emma interrupts, swallowing with some difficulty. "And I… I'm glad you enjoyed it. But it can't happen again. I can't… It just can't happen again. So please, let's just forget about it."

"But I don't want to forget about that night," Trina says softly, hurt in her voice. Emma closes her eyes and turns her head away.

"I do."

They stand silent, unmoving. There's an ache in Trina's chest that steadily grows the longer she stands there, Emma refusing to look at her.

"Please, tell me what I did wrong," she whispers, the sting of rejection bringing tears to her eyes. "Whatever I did, I'm  _ sorry." _

Emma's expression crumbles, lips pursing and brows furrowing together as she shakes her head ever so slightly, pained. "You didn't do anything, Trina. I just… I can't. Please."

Despite her better judgement, Trina closes the distance, stilettos crunching softly against the rocks as she reaches out and strokes the soft white flesh of Emma's cheek, feeling the other woman twitch beneath her touch.

"Is this about Regina?"

Emma stumbles away from her with a gasp, green eyes wide and full of hurt. There's something frightened in her gaze, the way she stares at Trina like she's not sure who she's looking at.

"It is, isn't it?" Trina says, struggling to keep the bitterness from her voice. She motions at the ring on Emma's finger, the fused black-and-white diamond on a thin gold band that she knows wasn't there a week ago. "Do you still love her? Is she still in your life? Is that why you won't even look at me anymore?"

What she doesn't expect is for Emma to laugh. A cold, broken laugh that ends just as quickly as it begins, green eyes clouded with something dark. In the midst of her hurt, something angry and bitter rises up, an expression that has a shiver running up Trina's spine.

"I have  _ always  _ loved her," she says fiercely, glaring at Trina as if she's not understanding the importance of what she's saying. "I loved her until her last breath, and I love her still."

Trina stills, eyes widening. "She died?"

"In childbirth," Emma mutters, gaze going distant again. "She's gone."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Trina says, brows furrowing. If Emma's wife died at childbirth, then it had to have been years ago. The child she'd seen in Emma's arms briefly was at least a few years old. "But it doesn't explain why you won't look at me, Emma. I thought we could be friends."

"Friends?" Emma's head shakes with disbelief. "A friend who jumps into your bed when you and your husband are feeling frisky? No. That's not me. I can't."

"Then just-- just friends. No sex. I just-- I want us to be friends," Trina insists, wringing her hands together anxiously even as a deeper part of her knows that's a lie. She can't just be friends with Emma Swan. She's had a single taste and now the other woman runs through her blood - and her dreams - like a drug, like she's hooked and can't get her out of her mind. "I just wish you would tell me what I did to upset you--"

"I already told you, it has nothing to do with you," Emma snaps, wincing again when Trina's hand touches her cheek, fingers brushing the soft skin of her cheekbone. "Don't--"

"Then why?" Trina insists, her other hand gently pulling on Emma's chin until the blonde turns to face her again, green eyes reluctantly meeting hers. "Talk to me. Please, let me fix this."

_ "Let me fix this," Regina insists, fingers entwined with hers, tugging her closer and never letting her run away, always pushing her to face their problems. Together. _

"You can't," Emma whispers, tears prickling at her eyes even as she leans into the gentle hand against her cheek. "Not this time, Regina."

And then it clicks - their first meeting, the pained  _ "you look like someone I used to know,"  _ the familiar and loving gazes, the wrong name whispered during the heat of sex.

"I look like her," Trina says faintly. It's not a question. Emma's lips twitch into a pained smile before she finally steps back, moving away from Trina's outstretched hand.

"That's why it can never happen again. I'm sorry, Trina. I should have never…" Her thoughts drift to that one fateful night that they were together and she shakes her head to rid herself of it. "I promise, I wasn't using you because of that. I would never--"

"I did come after you with all the subtlety of a shark, dear," Trina reminds her, dully. "I know I pushed you even when you tried to resist. I'm not mad. I'm just… I don't know."

She shakes her head, speechless. What does one say in response to that? She can understand now why Emma continues to pull away. How painful it must be, to be around someone who looks like your deceased partner. How horrible it must feel to see a clone of your lost love living a life with someone else.

Something twists in her gut and she feels strangely guilty, as if their unfavorable circumstances are her fault. A part of her feels like she should tell Tom all of this, like he might tell her that she can no longer be friends with Emma Swan.

Would that make their cut in ties easier?

"Like I said, I would appreciate it if we could just forget about what happened," Emma says after a moment, forcing a bitter smile. "Maybe if we just keep things neighborly. It would be easier for us both."

_ Would it really?  _ Trina thinks, but instead she hears herself say, "If that's what you want."

"Yeah. It's… It's what I want." They stare at each other, both knowing that it's a lie. "I guess I'll see you around… Mrs. Decker." 

Slowly, Emma begins making her way back up the path. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets and her shoulders are hunched, but she pauses to turn and regard Trina with something sad and resigned in her eyes. "Uh, Belle and Ruby are planning my housewarming party. You're both invited, if you want to come. Sunday night at six."

Trina just nods, numb. Emma nods back and keeps walking. She's halfway back up the path when Trina calls after her, "Emma!"

The blonde turns, green eyes hesitantly meeting hers.

_Can I kiss you one last time?_ The brunette's mind provides, unable to comprehend that she will never get to taste the other woman's lips ever again. Something about that feels so wrong. Instead she says, weakly, "Maybe we can open that Dom Pérignon I gave you?"

Emma looks at her knowingly. "Sure," she says, and then she's gone.

 

 

"So I take it you found her?" Tom asks when she finally gets home, her red heels coated in a layer of rock dust and her skin warm with sweat from having struggled her way back up the trails in stilettos. She kicks off her heels in the entryway and starts stripping as soon as she's in the house, peeling the dress from her damp skin with a dull look on her face.

"I did. We talked."

"And?" he prompts, quickly jumping up from the couch to follow her into the bedroom with a look of concern on his face. Trina has always been a naturally vibrant person, full of personality and fire. The way she walks with her shoulders slumped and her expression withdrawn is worrying, to say the least.

"She wants to forget about what happened and just be… neighbors." Trina dumps her dress into the laundry hamper by the bathroom door and digs around in the drawers for something to change into. Tom leans in the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed.

"Okay," he says slowly, brows furrowed. Trina throws a few selections of lounge pants and loose shirts onto the bed, considering them with a scowl. "You know the lifestyle isn't for everyone, Trina. At least you two had one fun night, right? If she just wants to be nothing more than a neighbor from now on, we've gotta respect her wishes."

"It's not-- well, part of it is, but that's not why she--" She breaks off with a grunt of frustration, pulling on a pair of silk lounge pants and a soft cotton shirt before shoving the rest back into the drawer. "It's complicated, Tom."

"Then uncomplicate it for me, darlin'." He sits on the edge of the bed, holding out a supportive hand. After a moment, she takes it and lets him tug her down next to him, nestling into his side.

"Do you remember when we first met her?"

"When she opened the door and looked white as a ghost? Yeah, I remember. Why?"

"Apparently, I look just like her wife, Tom. Her dead wife."

His brows hit his hairline, his mustache twitching as his lips purse together. He turns his head to face forward, staring hard at something in front of him as he thinks. His fingers continue their slow, soothing strokes against her shoulder, but there's something troubled in his expression.

"Well, that explains a lot about her behavior," he finally sighs, shaking his head. "Is that why she's been avoiding you like the plague all week? She regrets that night?"

"Yes." Trina almost rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes before remembering that she's still wearing makeup. "She wants to pretend it never happened."

"I don't blame her." He shrugs, letting his arm drop from around her shoulder as he leans back to meet her eyes. "It's for the best, Trina. If she looks at you and sees her deceased wife, it's easier for everyone involved if you two were just neighbors."

"Everyone involved?" She blinks at him, uncertainty in her gaze. "I assume you mean more than just myself and Emma."

"You're  _ my  _ wife. Hers is gone. Those lines shouldn't be blurred." He frowns, reaching down to link their hands together, the matching bands on their fingers glinting. "Besides, she was just a playmate. So she doesn't want to play again; there are plenty of others we know who would love to join us in bed. I don't understand why you're so upset over her."

Trina swallows, conflicted. Tom's brows knit together and he ducks his head to catch her gaze.

"She  _ was  _ just a playmate, right?"

Squeezing his fingers and bracing herself for the first outright lie she's ever told her husband, Trina smiles back reassuringly and strokes a hand against his cheek, the skin under her fingers rough with stubble, nothing like the softness of Emma's flesh. "Of course. And now that's over. A playmate would never get between us, Tom. You know that."

He relaxes, lips curled up as he leans in to kiss her softly. "Good. I love you, Trina."

"And I love you," she purrs back, dragging him down onto the bed with her.

 

 

Saturday evening is chaos. With the boys in charge of the station, Emma had opened her front door to the excited shrieks of Belle and Ruby, a shit eating grin from Merida as the redhead shoved a dress into her arms, and the much quieter entrance of Lily and Mulan just behind them. Grace is already over and entertaining Henry in the living room with crayons, but the sound attracts the two youths and Emma can only let herself be helplessly hugged and dragged around.

"Hi!" Henry shouts gleefully, lifting his arms and immediately getting scooped up by the other women as they kiss and snuggle him - the little attention hog that he is.

"You're gonna love 54," Ruby boasts to Emma as she motions for her to change into the dress they'd brought for her.

"I thought we were going to Crisco?" Merida says, fingers tickling at Henry's armpits and coaxing a loud guffaw from the little boy.

"Nah, 54 should be the club to pop Emma's cherry."

"Ruby!" Belle admonishes, smacking her girlfriend on the arm. "Not in front of the children!"

"Cover your ears, Gracie," Ruby says. When Grace's eyes widen and she quickly claps her hands over her ears, Ruby continues slyly, "54 has  _ so  _ many more gays. We're, like, the new fab thing, Emma, you know that right? Heteros of this age think we're the latest fashion accessory. 54 is chock full of lesbians. We'll find you a hot new girlfriend in no time."

"I'm not looking for a girlfriend," Emma murmurs, grimacing as she instinctively covers her ring with her other hand. Her deputy notices her discomfort and proceeds to change the conversation by shouldering Ruby with mock annoyance.

"I so did not sign up to get hit on by women at a gay club, Lucas," Lily complains, though it's said in playful jest. "I work with enough lesbians as is."

"Oh, but the gays know how to party," Merida laughs, so very straight and yet so very open and accepting. "They have the best shindigs!"

"Shindigs!" Henry repeats, looking delighted when the adults burst out laughing.

"Mrs. Swan?" Grace asks in a hushed whisper, hands no longer over her ears, drawing the blonde aside a little as the others chatter on loudly.

"Something wrong, Grace?" Emma asks when she realizes the young teenager's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Are you… I mean, I didn't know… I thought…" The girl is making tiny little frantic motions at Emma's hand, or more specifically, her ring finger. Self conscious, Emma touches the ring with her thumb and smiles wryly.

"I was married. My wife passed away."

"Oh, I'm  _ so  _ sorry, Mrs-- I mean, Miss Swan. I didn't--"

"It's okay, Grace. It's…" Emma motions towards the other officers and their preparations for a night out at what Grace has surely overhead is a gay nightclub. "It's not a problem, is it?"

"No!" Somehow, her eyes get even larger, and Emma can't help but want to laugh at the sheer terror on the girl's face, as if she could have possibly offended them. "Not at all! I mean, my parents are very traditional, but my friends talk about that kind of stuff all the time, Mrs-- Miss Swan, and I'm not judging at all, I'm very open minded--"

"Relax, kid," Ruby snickers, dragging poor Grace over to sling an arm over her shoulder. "So long as you're cool with us, we're cool with you."

There might actually be awe and admiration in Grace's eyes when she glances around at all the female officers grinning at her, and when they finally ask her to entertain Henry while they get ready for the club, the girl obeys without complaint.

"Okay, get into your dress," Ruby begins when the women drag her into her bedroom and begin pulling brushes and makeup from their bags. Emma wrestles her new outfit from the bag and startles at the silky green slip of fabric, jaw dropping ever so slightly.

"Is this actual silk? How much did this cost?"

"It's a loan," is all Ruby says, shrugging. "Now let's see it!"

Groaning, Emma strips down and pulls it on right then and there to the whistles and catcalls of Ruby and Belle, with Lily and Merida joining in just for shits and giggles. Mulan is the only one who respectfully turns her head away, busy applying eyeliner.

"Does it look okay?" the blonde asks, uncertainly. The silky slip of fabric hugs her athletic curves in all the right ways, wrapping around her neck and leaving her upper back bare to show off a muscular back, sculpted shoulders, and strong, lithe arms. It tapers around her thighs and ends above the knees with a slit down one side that nearly reaches her hip, soft flesh on display in a way that has Ruby and Belle smiling almost wolfishly at her.

"Lookin' tasty, Chief," Ruby teases.

"Really brings out your eyes," Lily offers.

The next half an hour is a blur of makeup and curling irons and an expert-quick nail polish application from Mulan, then they're all heading for the door in their heels and coats and purses.

"Alright, we're heading out," Emma says as she approaches Henry and Grace where they sit at the kitchen table working on a coloring book together. "Be good for Grace, alright, Deputy Henry?"

"I always good, Mama," he says, beaming, a streak of blue crayon smeared across his cheek. "You look pwetty!"

"Thank you, munchkin." She kisses him on the forehead and waves to Grace before hurrying after the others, ambling out onto the driveway. The girls have carpooled in Merida's vehicle today, a bear of a car with a front bench seat so that all six of them can ride together. The redhead is just unlocking the car and they're all dumping their bags of makeup and spare clothes in the trunk when Trina and Tom jog their way down the street during their usual evening run, eyeing them with curiosity.

"Evening!" Tom calls out as they slow to greet them, polite as always. "You ladies look extra lovely tonight! Hitting the clubs?"

"Yup," Ruby says, popping the 'p' sound as she and Belle give Trina a wry, apologetic smile. They've hit the clubs with Trina in the past but this is more of a 'work group' thing with the other female officers and, besides, Trina's never gotten on particularly well with Lily or Merida. Both of whom are already flanking Emma on either side, protective of their boss and new friend.

"We're going to 54," Lily adds in. The mention of the blatantly gay nightclub has Trina's eyes narrowing and flickering down to search for Emma's wedding ring.

"Cool," says Tom, ignorant and smiling. Trina is making an effort not to pay any extra special attention to Emma but it's a futile attempt; her hungry gaze ravishes the blonde's stunning form (the wedding ring is still there to her relief,) before landing on those gorgeous green eyes.

"You look very nice, Chief Swan," she offers hesitantly, forcing out the title as if it might distance them and make them nothing more than neighbors. "The green really brings out your eyes."

"That's what I told her," Lily pipes up, bumping her shoulder against Emma's and staring Trina down. The older brunette just lifts her head and sniffs; she's hardly intimidated.

"Thanks," Emma directs to Trina, ignoring the momentary challenge between the two brunettes and instead pushing Lily towards the car. "Well, have a good run, you two."

"Have fun at the club, ladies," says Tom, waving at them as he starts up his jog again. Trina hesitates before following, running after her husband in sports shorts and a tanktop.

"Awkward," Ruby mutters to her girlfriend before they tumble into the car after Emma.

 

 

The blonde is understandably quiet, but her colleagues are intent on lifting her mood once the night kicks off. Merida drives like a madwoman and they're at the nightclub in the next town over within the hour, pouring out of the car once they're parked and making their way to the entrance arm in arm. The music is pounding and easily heard even from outside the building. Emma cranes her head back to gawk at the large neon sign as they duck inside, cutting the line with ease when the doormen get a good look at the group.

Ruby's in crimson red, the dress tight and barely reaching mid-thigh. Belle wears a vibrant, shimmering gold-sequined dress and matching pumps that - despite their five inches - only make the short woman average height. Merida rocks a sapphire blue summer dress that flares out at her knees, Lily's in a sexy pantsuit and purple silk blouse, and Mulan is the epitome of class in a form fitting little black dress. Along with Emma's emerald green number, the women are a rainbow of beauty and get heads turning as they're led to a large reserved booth at the back of the club near the bar.

"We have a table?" Emma shouts in question, leaning towards her friends to be heard. Ruby and Belle are grinning like cheshire cats.

"We know people," they shout back in explanation. Instead of sitting down, they disappear towards the bar, returning shortly with trays of drinks. There are all sizes and types of glasses filled with colorful liquids and mini umbrellas of which they hand out at random.

"How much did this cost?" Emma asks, blinking at the martini glass of neon blue in her hand.

"Don't worry about a thing, Chief," Lily says, leaning into her side. "It's on us."

Before Emma can ask what she means, the others all hold up their drinks together in a toast.

"To our first female Chief of Police," says Mulan, flashing Emma a genuine smile.

"To our new boss and friend," Belle offers.

"To having fun and never letting anyone get us down," says Ruby.

"To partying it up like the gays!" Merida shouts, earning a wave of laughter from the others.

"You're all insane," Emma says loudly, grinning as she lifts her glass with the others. "To us."

"To us!" they echo, drinks clinking together.

The entire night becomes a blur after that. Emma has half a dozen drinks in her before they're being pulled out onto the dance floor by flirty women and fabulously gay men. Merida swings her around and playfully bumps hips as they fall into place with the other dancers, Emma's movements somewhat awkward but loosening up the more she drinks. A drunken Lily is a fun Lily, if the brunette's whoops of laughter are any indication as she lets herself get swept up into playful dance moves with a few gorgeous gay men. Mulan manages to get hit on by some of the only straight men in the club and makes a beeline for Emma once there's a break in the next disco song, murmuring some awkward excuse about using her Chief like a human shield.

"Want another drink?" the raven haired officer asks, clearly eager to escape the dance floor for a bit. Emma grins and links arms with her, already dragging her towards the bar.

"Surprise me with something fruity," she tells the handsome bartender, then motions to Mulan who requests the same. They're tumbling back into their reserved booth with their drinks a minute later, warm and flushed with matching smiles on their faces, skin sticky with sweat and glitter after hours of dancing in a pool of glittery party-goers. 

"Do you guys do this every weekend?" Emma shouts, leaning towards the other woman to be heard over the loud thumping of the current song. Mulan snorts in a most ladylike way and shakes her head, tendrils of dark hair falling out from the loose bun she'd put it up in.

"The places we usually go to are way more relaxed. I think the girls just wanted to make your first night out with us extra fun."

"This is definitely crazy, and I appreciate it," Emma says, taking a sip of her drink to rehydrate. It tastes so sweet and fruity that she's not sure what her blood alcohol content is at anymore; it's easy to lose track of when she's been drinking the stuff like water. "But I think I look forward to calmer weekends. I'm a little too old to be partying at nightclubs like this."

"We're only in our thirties, don't make me feel like a little old lady," Mulan laughs, glancing sideways as Ruby appears from the throng of dancers with a stranger in tow. "I think we mainly came here because Ruby wants to hook you up."

"Oh no," Emma manages before the brunette arrives, grinning ear to ear.

"Hey guys, meet Aurora! Aurora, this is Emma and Mulan."

"Hi," the young woman offers shyly, her cheeks prettily flushed as she reaches out to shake both women's hands. "It's Aurora, but you can just call me Rory. My parents were early hippies."

"Nice to meet you, Rory," Emma offers with a friendly chuckle, pursing her lips when Ruby nudges the girl to sit next to her.

"Emma's our new Chief of Police," the leggy brunette says coyly, followed by a dramatic turn of her head towards the dance floor. "Oh, I think Belle's waving me over. Be right back!"

She disappears back into the throng, probably with no intention of returning anytime soon. Emma stifles a sigh and offers a welcoming smile to the other woman. Aurora is certainly pretty, maybe a few years younger than she is, with big doe eyes and a naivety about her that seems almost out of place in a nightclub like this.

"Um, Chief of Police, huh? That's very cool," Aurora offers politely. Then, to Mulan, "Are you a police officer too?"

"Yes. I'm officer Mulan Fa. It's nice to meet you," Mulan blurts out, then promptly focuses on sipping her drink with her eyes downcast and cheeks bright pink. Emma clears her throat.

"You here with your friends too, Rory?" she inquires, to which Aurora shakes her head.

"My brother Phillip recently came out as gay and has never been to a club like this before, so I offered to come along as moral support." She points out a tall and rather pretty man in the crowds, happily dancing and hip-grinding with another man. "He's found himself a, uh, friend, so I was just having a drink over by a corner table by myself until your friend came to talk to me."

Emma exchanges a look with Mulan - or tries to, at least, but the raven haired beauty has her dark gaze locked on the doe-eyed brunette, looking almost protective of the lonely girl.

"Are you gay too?" Emma asks outright, which has both Mulan and Aurora startling in surprise.

"Um, n-no?" Aurora says, sounding more confused than not. "I mean, I haven't really thought about it… I don't know. I've been very focused on university," she ends lamely.

"Just curious," Emma says with a shrug. "Hey, I'll be right back. I need some fresh air, it's getting hot in here."

Mulan nods quickly, scooting out of the way so that the blonde can get out. With a wave and a grin, Emma leaves the two women alone and makes her way around the dance floor, slipping out the front door and into the cool night air. The doormen press an ink stamp onto the back of her hand so that she can get back in without hassle later, the bright green '54' staining her skin.

Not wanting to wander off too far, she walks just a few paces down the block to where she can lean against the side of the building and cool off. The night air feels good against her flushed skin and it's doing wonders to clear the haze from her head. Breathing out slowly, she lifts her hand to look at her ring, eyes softening as she takes in the glittering diamond.

It's half white and half black, two beautiful stones fused together into one. The idea had originally been her mother's; Emma being the Queen of the White Kingdom and Regina being the former princess of the Dark Kingdom. With some delicate magic work on Regina's part, she'd split both diamonds and fused them with their opposing halves, each new stone nestled into a thin gold band.

Regina had been buried with hers.

Touching her own ring with a gentle fingertip, Emma sighed, resting her hand against her stomach and tilting her head back against the building wall.

"I can't date anyone else," she whispers, as if Regina might be listening. What would her beloved wife say if she could be here? Is Emma meant to fight for Trina, or let Regina's reincarnation live her own life?

A scuffle from further down the side alley has Emma jerking away from the wall, alert but slower than usual due to her intoxication. Most people have already gone into the club but she knows the bouncers are still at the front door. Knowing better than to let herself get into a bad situation - especially now that she's unarmed - Emma begins inching her way towards the front of the club again, keeping her eye on the shadows behind her.

"Wait!" a voice calls out, rough and familiar with a heavy accent and a growl that is more wild than human. The familiarity is what gives Emma pause, peering hesitantly down the alley and watching a figure slink towards her in the darkness.

"Hey Chief!"

Emma jumps again, whipping around to see Lily standing by the corner of the building and looking confused.

"What are you doing out here? Come back inside, DunBroch just got us another round of jello shots."

Emma hesitates, unsure of what to say, when Lily looks past her and stiffens in alarm at the same time footsteps run at her from behind.

"Look out!" Lily shouts, reaching for her at the same time a man collides against her from behind with a cry of "Emma!"

Lifted off her feet, Emma comes face to face with the man she'd grown up with, a man who had been among her personal guard during her reign in the Enchanted Forest. Tears immediately filling her eyes, she laughs in disbelief and throws her arms around his neck.

"Graham!"

He swings her around, hugging her tight enough to make it hard to breathe while Lily watches on in shock, jaw hanging open. Even when he sets her back down on her feet, they remain clinging to each other, his large calloused hands on her shoulders and hers clinging to his muslin tunic and leather coat.

"How are you here?" Emma nearly shouts, shaking the front of his tunic. Graham opens his mouth to speak and is immediately shushed when Emma remembers that Lily is right there behind them. "Wait, wait."

She laughs again, kisses his stubbled cheek, then turns to face her deputy with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but can you let the others know that I had to leave early?"

"Uh, sure, Chief, but who's this?" Lily asks, still eyeing Graham suspiciously. "And what's with the costume?"

"Costume?" Graham repeats, confused. He isn't even wearing his usual furs - his current and very basic ensemble was given to him by the person who sent him to this strange new land.

"He's from another country," Emma answers quickly, close enough to the truth that Lily's BS-radar doesn't go off. "This is Graham, he's a childhood friend of mine. I was getting a little tired anyway, so I may as well head home now. He and I can take a taxi. Can you let the girls know I'm sorry to skip out without saying goodbye?"

"Sure. I guess we'll see you at your housewarming tomorrow then." Lily shrugs, giving Graham one more skeptical once-over before ducking back into the club. 

"Your Majesty," Graham says once they're relatively alone again, eyes glimmering with warmth and affection. "I can't believe I really found you."

"I have so many questions," Emma admits with a shaky laugh, feeling jittery with excitement and shock. "Did you-- did anyone else come too?"

"No, just me," he says, smiling softly when Emma visibly deflates. "But I bring messages and gifts from your parents. And I will answer your questions the best I can."

"Not here." Emma pulls him with her towards the sidewalk, lifting an arm to hail a taxi as cars whiz by. "We'll take a taxi back to my house and talk there."

"What's a taxi?"

 

 

She can't sleep. It's half past midnight and Tom is snoring away in their bedroom, gone to bed alone when she'd said she wanted to stay up and finish reading the latest chapter of her book. That isn't a lie, at least. She's still curled up on the couch and slowly making her way through her paperback. The only problem is that her head snaps up towards the window every time a car passes by.

This obsession is unhealthy, she knows that. Emma has set down the new rules for their relationship - or rather, lack thereof - and here she is watching the woman's house and praying desperately that the blonde returns alone tonight and not in the arms of another woman. Emma had stressed her love for her departed wife; surely she wouldn't try to get over both Regina and Trina by taking a stranger to bed so soon?

Finally setting her book down, Trina lifts her mug only to find that her tea has long gone cold. With a sigh, she takes it to the kitchen and dumps the remains into the sink, then returns her book to the shelf next to the television. Tom will surely be upset with her if he wakes to find her still lingering by the window, so she pads over to the lamp and turns it off, intent on going to bed.

That's when a taxi pulls up on the street, letting two people off on the sidewalk right in front of the Swan household.

Trina freezes, staring. She should go to bed, not stand here in the dark, peering out the window at her neighbor like a lovesick fool.

The cab drives off and she can just make out two figures moving towards the house; Emma in her striking green dress, and a tall man with dark curly hair, following the blonde closely.

Both disappear into the house, the door shutting tightly behind the man.

Trina, with bitter jealousy roiling in her gut and stinging at her eyes, retreats to her bedroom and curls up on her end of the bed, in no mood for any physical contact with her sleeping husband tonight. She's going to that housewarming party tomorrow, and god help that tall man with the dark curly hair if she finds him still there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, dear Swen! As my gift to you, I've just released new chapters for most of my fics in progress today. Please be sure to check them all out and, if you're feeling generous, leave me some comments with your thoughts. Happy Holidays and have an amazing New Year. ;)

No words can explain her joy at having Graham  _here,_ in person, a familiar face that she's missed for the past few years since leaving the Enchanted Forest. He is warmth and comfort and familiarity, so overwhelming that Emma finds tears blurring her eyes once she turns to face him again, standing in the middle of her living room with only a table lamp turned on, casting shadows across his rugged face. She had paid Grace and sent her off quickly as soon as they got inside, relieved that Henry had already been put to bed, uncertain of how yet she would explain Graham's presence.

"I can't believe you're really here," she whispers, sagging a little in place. Guilt that she had once pushed to the very back of her mind returns in full force now, the guilt of having left without the chance to say goodbye to him, Graham having had to leave on a trip shortly after Regina's passing and not having yet returned when she'd taken the portal. "I- I never said goodbye--"

He drops his satchel to the floor and pulls her into his arms, feeling her settle her face in against the crook of his neck with the softest of sobs, arms wound tightly around his chest.

"Don't cry, Your Majesty. I'm here now, that's all that matters. I found you. I'll always find you."

Emma breaks away from him with a tearful laugh, slapping his arm at his use of her parents' catchphrase. "I'm no longer a Queen, Graham. Spare me the title."

"Princess, then. You will always be little Princess Emma to me." He smiles at her, a kind of  brotherly love and affection radiating from him so strongly that Emma relents and ends up in his embrace again, the both of them sinking down onto the couch with a sigh.

"Tell me - tell me everything. How did you get here? How are my parents? And the kingdom?"

"One question at a time, Princess. Your parents and the kingdom are fine. Your father finally allowed me to leave my duties to the kingdom in favor of following you here. They've been trying to grow more beans - that's how I acquired one and arrived here."

"Grow beans?" Emma repeats, barely keeping up, her mind still bursting with questions. She shakes her head, baffled. "If there are more - couldn't they come visit me? They could still go back…"

"There aren't enough, it wouldn't have been worth the risk to use them up for a visitation, not until they're sure they can grow many more." Graham gives her shoulder a squeeze, smiling sympathetically, knowing how fiercely she must miss her parents. "Mine was a one way trip, Princess. I came to serve you again."

"Oh, Graham, I  _am_ glad you're here." Emma squeezes his hand back, grasping the man's rough fingers between hers. "How did you find me, though? How could you have been sure you would end up in the same world? The same city?"

"That…" He hesitates, an odd look overtaking his sombre features as one of his calloused hands touches his chest. After a moment, he tugs on the string around his neck and pulls up a ring he's been wearing as a necklace, one that Emma recognizes immediately and has her breath stuttering to a stop within her chest.

"That's…" Her throat constricts, green eyes wide with disbelief. Graham quickly pulls it from the string and presses it into Emma's hand.

"Queen Regina's ring," he finishes softly, brows furrowing together. "It reappeared one day, about a week ago, floating by the beans and glowing. It's what led me to you."

"Regina…" Tears sting at Emma's eyes and she pierces him with a hard stare. "Her resting place, is it--"

"It's undisturbed, I swear to you," he promises firmly. He, Snow, and David had immediately ran to the inner gardens as soon as they'd discovered the ring, checking that the mausoleum where all past royalty were buried was untouched. Regina's resting place, like every other Queen and King before her, was permanently sealed.

"But… How?" Emma clutches at the ring, feeling the diamond - the twin to her own wedding ring - dig into her palm. The very thought that this ring is no longer buried with its rightful owner has her pulse pounding rapidly in her head, sending her mind reeling and her gut twisting painfully. She turns away from Graham, feeling suddenly ill and afraid that she might puke up all that she's drank from the club. "This-- it's-- it should be with her, Graham! It belongs with her!"

"I'm sorry," he whispers, gently running his hands along her arms as she struggles to keep her crying quiet. "We didn't want to unseal her tomb to place it back inside. It appeared out of thin air… like magic. It would not stop glowing until it was here, with you. Surely this must mean something important?"

Emma just shakes her head, in tears and without an answer. He holds her for a while, uncertain of what to say, simply letting her cry herself dry. It takes the better part of an hour for her to calm, wiping away the tears from her cheeks and staring down sorrowfully at the ring in her hand. The diamond glistens ever so slightly in the faint light, a mirror image of the ring on her own finger. After a moment, she slides it onto her ring finger so that it stacks gently against her own, unsure of what to do with it but not wanting to let it out of her sight, either.

"I truly am sorry, Princess," Graham whispers, hunched over with his head down. Emma reaches up and runs her fingers through his dark, unruly curls, a sad smile touching her lips.

"You have nothing to apologize for. There was nothing you could have done. Thank you, for bringing it safely to me." She breathes in and out, slowly, shoulders slumping as she exhales, trying to focus her mind on other matters for the time being. Anything to take her mind off of the fact that she feels disconnected from her wife even more than she thought possible, the matching ring no longer with its owner. "My parents - you said you bring messages from them?"

"I do." Graham snatches up his satchel from the floor and carefully begins pulling out items: a handful of neatly tied scrolls, a pouch of what sounds like gold coins and jewels, a small concealed dagger with their family crest emblazoned in the hilt, and a little stuffed animal that resembled a wolf. "Letters from your parents, some currency should you need it, and a new dagger. Your father had the blacksmith make one just for you. It can be strapped to the arm or thigh and conceals well."

"And the wolf…" Emma picks up the stuffed animal, running her fingers gently over the scruffy fur of it, fingertips grazing the shiny black beads sewn in for eyes.

"For Prince Henry," Graham says, voice softening. "He would be three years old now, wouldn't he? Your mother hand sewed it for him. Is he in this building?"

"This house, yes." Emma blinks, setting the toy back down on the coffee table. "His bedroom is just down the hall. He's sleeping now, but you can meet him in the morning."

"Of course." Graham lifts his head, finally taking a good look around the room and running his hands briefly over the soft material of the couch. "This world is very strange. You seem to have acclimated quite well."

"It does take some getting used to, yes." She chews idly on her lower lip, catching herself for falling back to the way she used to speak. Shaking her head a little, she glances down at the two rings on her finger now and sighs. There is so much she will have to teach Graham about this world, so much he will have to learn about her new life here, and… "There is something you must know, Graham."

"Yes?" He blinks at her, ever attentive and at her command. For all that he's grown - tall and sturdy and rugged - sometimes she looks at him and all she can see is the awkward, gangly boy she'd grown up with, the one with gentle blue eyes and a crooked smile, always willing to do as she asked, always looking to make her smile. Her parents had never given her siblings, but Graham had filled the role of big brother just as easily. Loving, comforting, a shoulder to lean on.

"I believe Regina has been reincarnated into this world," she says, voice barely above a whisper. Graham goes still, blue eyes widening with confusion, then shock.

"But-- truly? How do you know?"

"I've… met with her. It's her, Graham." Emma exhales, eyes fluttering shut at the thought of Trina. "Her face, her voice, her personality… It's her. Everything except her memories."

"You mean..."

"She doesn't remember us, any of us." Emma smiles somewhat bitterly as Graham's hand closes warmly around hers in understanding. "She's lived her own life here, in this world and this timeline. I don't know how it's possible, but it is."

His mouth falls open and for a moment he just gapes, then his gaze flickers down to the rings on Emma's hand and his brows furrow together with the beginnings of an idea.

"Her ring. It led me here, to you, to her reincarnation. Perhaps this is the Fates' way of--"

"Don't," Emma says sharply, immediately feeling guilt at the wounded look on Graham's face but forging ahead nonetheless. "Don't bring the Fates into this. If they had any kindness in them they would not have taken Regina from me in the first place."

She stands, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose as she wills the sting of tears away from her eyes. Gods, she's cried far too much in one week already.

"As I said, she already has a life of her own here, a husband - a good and loving husband. I… I will not ruin that for her."

"But she is your wife," Graham persists feebly. Emma glances down at him - his expression, pained, sympathizing for her - and just gives a little shake of her head and a sad smile.

"No, she's not. She's his."

"I don't understand," he murmurs, reaching up to grasp onto her hand and feeling her fingers squeeze his. "Will you not fight for her?"

"I fought for Regina, Graham. This reincarnation - Trina - she is not mine to fight for. I will not be the one to destroy her marriage." She sits back down, holding his hand within hers and sighing heavily. "She lives across the street and will undoubtedly be a part of our lives so long as we live here. I just ask that you respect my wishes and leave her alone. We're here to start a new life, not cling to an old one."

Eyes downcast, Graham squeezes her hand. "As you wish, Princess."

"And no more of that," Emma says with a shake of her head, managing a small smile as she pushes at his shoulder. "If you are to live in this world with us, you will have to acclimate as well. I won't have my friends questioning why you refer to me as royalty."

"Am I to simply call you Emma then?" he asks, brows knit together. Though he had called her by her first name often as children, as a grown hunter and a trained knight he almost always referred to her by her title. It would be strange, almost like reverting to the way they used to be.

"Emma is fine. Besides," she leans into his side and smiles when his arm automatically loops around her shoulder, "you were always my brother before you were my knight."

"True enough, little sister."

"Now…" Emma glances at the ugly floral clock above the mantle and frowns slightly at the time. "It's late, and there's an event happening here tomorrow evening. We should get some sleep. I can teach you the basics of this world and tell you what you need to know in the morning."

Graham nods agreeably. "Where shall I sleep? Would this chaise be alright?"

"It's called a couch, and no, you can share my bed until I can get another one set up in the guest room. Come on."

Emma gathers up the items from the table and carries them to her bedroom to set on her dresser, Graham following closely behind and already shedding his topmost layers, carefully folding his cloak and tunic and piling them on the chair by the vanity while Emma slips into the closet to change into sleeping clothes.

"When did we last share a bed? We were barely grown," he chuckles, kicking off his boots and eyeing the duvet on the bed with curiosity.

"I was perhaps twelve." Emma slides into bed and throws back the covers, motioning for him to join her. "You were sixteen and ready to move into the barracks with the other soldiers."

Climbing in, Graham settles into the soft mattress with a groan, long used to straw pallets or, when he was traveling, a simple fur blanket on the dirt ground. "Gods, this must be expensive."

"This is common for this world." She laughs at the shocked look on his face, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good to laugh after the week she's had. "This world is far more advanced than ours, Graham. I'll explain in the morning."

"As you wish." Blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at her. "Sleep well, Prin-… Emma."

"Goodnight, Graham."

 

_"Henry? Like after your father?"_

_Emma stretches out a little with a squeak of content, toes curling as she reclines back into the chaise. Regina snuggles in against her chest, sitting between the blonde's legs and tugging the furs up closer to her shoulder._

_"Yes. You never got to meet him, Emma, but he was a good man. He would have loved you."_

_"I would have loved him too. He must have been wonderful, to have raised someone as amazing as you." Tilting her head down, Emma presses soft kisses to her wife's neck and shoulder, feeling the brunette lean into the touch with a happy little sigh. "Yes."_

_"Yes?"_

_"If it's a boy, let's call him Henry."_

_Emma grins, the grin falling away in surprise when Regina just about flips over and crushes their lips together, fingers tangling into blonde curls and hips grinding down against hers. Moaning softly, she runs her hands up the older woman's back and trails her fingers over her shoulder blades, tongues pressing for control even as Regina pins her to the chaise._

_"And David," Regina murmurs between kisses, nipping at Emma's pouty lower lip._

_"My father?"_

_"As his middle name." Regina pulls away just enough so that their noses brush together, eyes warm and affectionate as she gazes down into endless pools of green. "Henry David."_

_Emma beams. "I love it."_

_"I love you."_

 

Henry. The name sticks with her all day, niggling at something in the back of her mind, something she should remember yet can't seem to grasp onto no matter how hard she tries. It has her so distracted that Tom asks if she's feeling unwell at some point, concerned by her wandering thoughts and inability to focus on a conversation. She brushes it off as a minor headache and he brings her an aspirin and a glass of water, kissing her sweetly on the temple before heading out for an impromptu meeting he's been called into.

By the time he returns shortly after noon, she's managed to unwind a little, watching The Price is Right on the television and relaxing with a cigarette, occasionally glancing out the window to see if there's any activity over at the Swan house.

"Trina? I need to talk to you."

"Hmm?" She grabs the remote and mutes the show, scooting over to make room when he sits down heavily on the couch with a sigh. There's a wry, reluctant smile on his face and she automatically passes her cigarette over, letting him take a long and much needed drag. "What's wrong? Something happen at the meeting?"

"Yeah." He exhales smoke and passes the cigarette back, pushing a hand through his hair and scratching softly at his scalp. "You, uh, you remember Tammy?"

"That ditzy little thing you brought home to our bed a while back?" She can't help but roll her eyes just a little. The younger stewardess was eager but clumsy, hardly able to sate hers or Tom's needs that night. "What about her?"

"She's been gossiping with the other women about our playtime." He sighs again, vaguely annoyed. "Boss caught wind, wasn't too happy about the gossip mill, even if we did meet with her off the clock."

Trina's brows furrow and she sits up a little straighter, frowning. "He didn't…"

"Fire me? No. But he took me off the Miami route, said it was for the best I didn't work with the same stewardesses for a while. I'm being  _promoted_ to the Tokyo route."

"Tom," she says exasperatedly, scowling at the implication. It means his trips are going to be much longer, spending more time at the Tokyo airport between flights rather than his usual route through Miami. They've spoken about it before, Tom having politely declined the promotion in the past since he didn't want to leave Trina at home alone even more. Now, however, it seems he has little choice.

"I'm sorry, Treen." He nudges the hem of her sundress aside to rub soothingly at her exposed knee, apology in his eyes at having brought Tammy over for playtime in the first place. "I didn't think she'd go around gossiping with the other women about it."

"It's fine," she huffs, clearly unhappy but knowing there was nothing either of them could do about it at this point. If they behaved and stopped having dalliances with their coworkers, he might eventually get to return to his Miami route. "We'll make it work."

"We always do, babe."

 

A part of Emma had feared Graham's arrival was just a dream, so when she woke in the morning to his bearded face and his heavy arm slung over her waist, nothing could stop the smile on her face, not even when the alarm went off a minute later and sent him crashing off the bed with a yelp of alarm, no doubt waking Henry earlier than she normally would have woken him.

Quickly turning on the shower and ordering him to wash himself, Emma goes to check on Henry, coaxing him back to sleep for just a little longer and then shuffling out into the kitchen to get started on breakfast. Graham appears twenty minutes later, shirtless and wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants, a towel slung around his shoulders and confusion on his face. Emma shows him how to turn off the shower, gives him a quick tutorial on the sink and toilet, then gives him the largest tanktop she owns, sighing at the way it fits tightly on his muscled form.

"We'll have to go shopping for new clothes for you," she says as he sits at the kitchen table, openly examining the house now that the sun is pouring in through the windows.

"This world's clothing looks restrictive and uncomfortable," Graham notes, having gawked at his fair share of people when he'd first arrived two days ago. Everyone had gawked at him just as much, of course, which was why he'd taken to the alleys between buildings rather than walk out in the open, feeling exposed in a world where  _he_ was suddenly the strange one.

"You'll get used to it, like everything else."

"Mm. Is there anything I can help you with? I don't feel right having you cater to me like this."

"I'm not royalty here, remember? Besides, you'd sooner burn my house down."

Graham grimaces, watching as Emma fiddles with a switch and a tiny blue flame appears out of nowhere beneath the pan. "I suppose that contraption does look complicated."

"It's called a stove."

"Mama?" Henry's sleepy little voice calls out from the hallway, shortly followed by the child himself padding out into view, one fist rubbing at his eyes as he yawns.

"Morning, Henry. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Blinking owlishly, Henry walks right past Graham and over to his mother, tiny fingers grabbing onto her pant leg as he peers over his shoulder at the stranger. "Who that?"

Setting the pan of eggs aside, Emma leads him over to the kitchen table with a reassuring smile, one hand settled on top of Henry's head and smoothing down his wild hair. "Henry, this is uncle Graham. He's going to be staying with us from now on."

Sliding off the chair, Graham eases down onto one knee in front of the child and sets a fist over his heart, meeting those wide brown eyes with his own blue ones. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Prince Henry," he says softly, head dipping forward in a bow. Despite what Emma says, she will always be his Queen, and thus this precious little boy will always be his Prince.

Emma, for her part, smiles wryly and says nothing, knowing this moment is special to Graham and not wanting to spoil it for him.

"Uncle Gwaham," Henry says just as seriously, lifting a hand to touch the top of Graham's head. He becomes distracted by the man's unruly curls and ends up tugging curiously on them, getting a warm laugh out of Graham.

"He looks like you both," he says once his hair is released, reclaiming his chair and then grinning with amusement when Henry climbs up into his lap and uses him like a booster seat without even asking. "He has your features, but her eyes and her coloring."

"He does," Emma agrees, setting a plate in front of Henry and then piling up a small mountain of food on another plate for Graham, knowing the man has the appetite and stomach capacity of a bear. "I see more of her in him every day. He'll get even a little tanner with the summer sun."

"Look like Mommy," Henry singsongs, grabbing a fork with his entire fist and spearing up a chunk of scrambled eggs to shovel into his mouth. Graham raises a brow.

"He should know about his mother," Emma shrugs, plating up her own breakfast and then bringing over two mugs of coffee. "I told him a little about my parents, too. He deserves to know about them."

"He'll meet them one day, I'm sure of it."

They share a small smile, Emma pushing a mug of coffee towards him as she digs into her breakfast. The look of disgust on his face almost has her choking her food back up with laughter.

"What is that? It looks like tar!"

"It's coffee. You'll learn to like it."

His face pinches when he takes a sip and the porcelain mug thumps back to the table immediately. "I hope not; that is foul!"

They spend the next couple hours talking about anything and everything, Emma running him through the basics of this world while Graham asks endless questions. She spends the most time going over their cover story, making sure he knows who she is supposed to be in this town, and then proclaiming that she will introduce him as her adoptive brother from Boston.

Ruby and Belle arrive at noon, arms loaded down with boxes of decorations and supplies. Graham immediately jumps in to help them, which really only results in the two women letting him do all the work just so they can titter over his biceps and rugged good looks.

"Off limits," Emma warns them, amused.

"Is it like a family thing?" Ruby complains. "Is your entire family super hot? Do you have any other siblings we should know about?"

They manage to set up everything they need in just a few hours, platters of food and snacks spread out on the counters and dining tables and an array of liquor bottles lining the kitchen island. The furniture in the living room is rearranged so that there will be plenty of space for all the guests, and Ruby plugs in the stereo system she'd brought from home to play a variety of music. With Belle volunteering to help Henry choose his outfit for the evening, Emma uses the phone in the hallway to ring up the station.

"Winnetka police station, Officer Dunbroch speakin', how can we help ye?"

"Hey, Dunbroch, it's Swan," Emma says, smiling as Graham wanders over and watches her on the phone with confusion written all over his face. "Which of the boys are at the station right now?"

"Hey, Chief. Hang on." There's a shuffling sound, and then Merida starts rattling off the name of a few male officers currently in the station. Emma interrupts when she hears August's name.

"Mind putting Booth on the phone?"

"Sure." There's a thud, and then Emma can vaguely hear Merida shouting across the bullpen for August. A moment later and his voice greets her on the phone.

"Afternoon, Chief. What can I do for you?"

"Would you mind bringing a spare set of clothes when you come over for the party later? My, uh, my relative showed up out of nowhere and he's going to be staying with me for a while, he just needs something to change into until we can go clothing shopping this week."

"Yeah, sure Chief. Can do." His toothy smile is evident even through the phone. "Cassidy and I are stocking up your liquor cabinets, by the way, so I hope you're ready to drink tonight."

"Bring it," she chuckles. "Thanks, Booth. See you later."

She hangs up, smirking a little as Graham eyes the phone.

"One of my officers will bring you a change of clothes later. We'll go shopping and get you some proper clothes this week - and a haircut too." She ruffles his hair and he laughs, ducking away from her. His dark curls are longer than they've been in a long time, falling over his ears and reaching the base of his neck in wavy tendrils. His beard is thickening too; she'll have to teach him how to shave, somehow.

"Mama," Henry says, appearing in the hallway in khakis and a mint green polo shirt, his dark hair brushed neatly to one side. Belle appears behind him just a moment later, grinning. "Mama, I handsome?"

"Yes you are, baby boy!" Emma scoops him up and presses kisses all over his face until he's giggling and squirming. "So very, very handsome! Did Belle help you pick out this outfit?"

"Yeah," he confirms with a nod, smiling toothily at Belle. The brunette just about melts at his childish charm.

"Everything's ready to go," Ruby says, joining the group in the main hall. "It'd probably be a good time for me to go heat up the cheese fondue. Cool if I use your kitchen, Chief?"

"Yeah, go ahead." As the two brunette women scamper off for the kitchen, Emma turns to Graham. "I'm just going to go look over those letters from my parents. Do you mind if I--?"

"Go on," he says with a smile. Emma nods and carries Henry into her bedroom, plucking up the stuffed wolf from the dresser and placing it into his already outstretched hands.

"This is for you, kiddo. Your grandma made it for you."

"Gammy?" His mouth makes an 'o' shape for a moment, brown eyes wide with surprise before a huge smile breaks out on his face, chubby arms hugging the toy to his chest. "Gammy made it for me?"

"Yes she did." His uncontainable glee at receiving a gift from the grandmother he's only ever heard wonderful stories about makes Emma's heart twinge. Resisting the urge to cry as Henry kisses the wolf gently and hugs it against his cheek, she sets him down and smooths a hand over his hair. "Why don't you go show uncle Graham your new wolf?"

"Okay!" He beams, scampering for the door, but suddenly remembers something and pauses in the doorway to look at her. "Tell Gammy I say fank you!"

He looks proud at having remembered his manners - hilarious lisp and all - and stampedes away to show off his new toy to Graham. Breathing out slowly and steadily, Emma takes the small handful of scrolls from the dresser and sits on the edge of the bed, picking one at random to unroll. The familiar flourish of her mother's handwriting and the messy scrawl of her father's has tears dripping down her cheeks before she's even read through the first paragraph.

 

"Trina? You ready to go?"

"No."

Trina sighs irritably, tossing her dress to the bed and digging through the closet for the seventh time that evening. Every choice she's made has been either too safe or too risque, and as she continues to toe the line of wanting to seduce the Chief but also not wanting to scare her off even further, it's been near impossible to decide on an outfit for the party.

"Babe, it's just a housewarming," Tom says as he appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets and his patterned shirt open at the top three buttons. "You looked great in those last three dresses. We're going to be late if you don't settle on one."

"Okay, okay. Give me a minute. Can you get the hor d'oeuvres out of the fridge?"

He nods and disappears just as she finally pulls out a blue halter dress, pairing it with big hoop earrings and a sapphire bangle. The slit V-neckline reaches to just below her breasts, teasing at cleavage while still classy and respectable. Slipping on a pair of matching heels, she grabs her clutch and the wrapped housewarming gift from the dresser, heading out to the main entrance where her husband already waits with the tray of hor d'oeuvres in his arm and a crooked smile on his face.

"There, see? You look beautiful like always. Come on, the party's already started."

 

August and Neal are some of the first to arrive early, August with a change of clothing that he gives to Graham after the men greet with firm handshakes and slaps on the back. Coincidentally, the clothes he's given - dark slacks and a beige dress shirt - match nicely with the beige sundress Emma wears when she finally comes out of her bedroom, makeup freshly reapplied after a rather therapeutic crying session over her parents' love-filled letters.

Guests arrive in droves by the time six o'clock rolls around, everyone from the neighborhood bringing housewarming gifts and good will. Emma finds herself a little bit overwhelmed by the turnout, surprised at how many new faces have come to meet her in person and welcome her to town. Most of her fellow officers have come to join as well, save for DunBroch and a few others who have the night shift at the station today.

With too little knowledge of this world to make proper conversation, Graham sticks close to Emma, answering in as few words as possible when spoken to and generally just smiling and nodding. A lot of her neighbors make the mistake of assuming he's Emma's husband, but neither of them make the effort to correct anyone.

"Same-sex couples and 'open' relationships are somewhat taboo in this world," she'd mentioned to him earlier that day when he'd politely inquired about whether Ruby and Belle were a couple, confused about their flirty behavior towards each other  _and_ to him. He'd gaped at the very concept of 'swingers' but didn't question her, just nodded and promised he wouldn't speak of Regina if anyone pointed out Emma's wedding rings. She didn't hide the truth but she preferred not to openly talk about it either, seeing as many of her closest neighbors were the 'traditional, wholesome family' type - the Deckers notwithstanding.

"Graham," Emma says about a half hour into the party, grasping onto his bicep and pulling him to face away from the entrance. "She's here. Trina is here. You don't know her and you've never met her before, understood?"

"Yes," he says with a nod, face falling somewhat even as his shoulders tense up. He trails behind Emma as the blonde takes a deep breath and goes to greet the newest arrivals, a polite but distant smile on her face when the Deckers meet her halfway.

"Emma." Trina smiles a little too widely, clutching tightly to the wrapped gift in her hands, eyes flickering to Graham a few times before landing on Emma again. "Hi."

"Trina, Tom," Emma greets automatically, not missing the way the brunette's eyes light up when she does not address her as 'Mrs. Decker' like before. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting us, Chief," Tom says cheerfully, reaching out for her hand and giving her a chaste kiss on the back of her knuckles. "Great party! We brought some snacks to share. Where would you like these?"

"Oh, yeah, follow me." Emma turns for the kitchen and motions for him to bring the tray. Too nervous to be left alone with the familiar stranger that is apparently not the Regina he knew, Graham tries to follow, halted in his step when the husky voice he knows quite well says,

"I'm sorry, we haven't met before. I'm Trina. You are?"

He half-turns, an uncomfortable look on his face as Trina pins him with a too-friendly smile. There is something piercing and calculating in her eyes, eerily similar to the way Regina had glared at him when they'd first met in the Enchanted Forest. He'd been a newly minted knight then, personal bodyguard to a young princess Emma who had the strangest fascination with the dark princess seeking refuge in the White Kingdom. Even back then he knew she'd been judging him, trying to suss out his relationship to the beautiful blonde.

"Graham," he says, voice cracking momentarily before he blushes and clears his throat. Even after they'd become friends, he always did retain a healthy dose of fear when it came to Regina's angry side. "My name is Graham."

"I'd like to think I know everyone who lives in this neighborhood," Trina says after a moment of appraising him, her gaze turning cold, "and I would most definitely remember meeting you, which means you're not from here. How is it that you know the Chief, hmm?"

"We're old friends," Graham mutters, shrinking under her hawk-like gaze. It's at that very moment that Henry decides to scurry over and attach himself to Graham's pant leg, the stuffed wolf in one hand and a juice box in the other.

"Gwaham," he says, holding up the juice box demandingly. Graham wants to laugh; even without memories of the world he was born in, Henry seems to naturally treat him like his personal knight. Dropping to a knee, he helps press the straw into the juice box and hand it back to the toddler, glancing up and unable to resist a double-take when he sees the similarities between Trina and Henry. The child may have Emma's cherubic face and dimples, but the rest is all Regina - dark mocha hair, warm caramel eyes, the same shade of tanned olive skin. He is her son, through and through, and Trina must surely sense something too because she hesitates and stares at the boy in wonder.

"Hi," Henry says, blinking at her when he feels her stare. Brows knit together, Trina manages a polite little smile.

"Hello, sweetheart. What's your name?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but what comes out is a little squeak as he's suddenly scooped up into Emma's arms, the blonde looking nervous and uncertain.

"Graham, do you mind?" she asks, passing Henry over to the man like a hot potato. Graham hugs the boy to his chest and nods, walking off for the kitchen and telling Henry that he's going to get him a snack.

"Was that your son?" Trina asks, having not gotten a proper look at the boy before when she'd first seen him a week ago from across the street. Emma nods jerkily. "He looks like--"

"Regina," Emma says hurriedly, and there's something pleading in her gaze, begging Trina not to ask too many questions. "He looks like Regina."

Pursing her lips, Trina glances to where Graham has disappeared with the boy, then back to Emma. She can see Tom out of the corner of her eye, already distracted chatting with some men by the television. "So, Graham is…"

Emma blinks at her, expression blank, and as the seconds drag on, it's clear she's not about to finish the sentence for her.

"He says he's an old friend of yours? Is he visiting for long?"

"Yes, we grew up together. He's staying with me for a while," Emma says, uncomfortable. Her eyes flicker down for only a fraction of a second, unable to resist looking at the soft skin on display, before pink tinges her cheeks and she clears her throat. "Well, uh--"

It's clear she's about to give some excuse to go mingle with the rest of her guests, but Trina beats her to it and suddenly holds out the box she's been clutching, painted red lips curled up into a more genuine grin as she easily changes the subject.

"I got you something. A housewarming gift."

"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to--"

"I wanted to." She urges it forward until Emma takes it with a hesitant smile, pulling loose the ribbon and prying the lid off. Green eyes widen in surprise as she gently lifts a brand new Hi-Matic camera from within, one of the newest models on the market thus far.

"This is-- Trina, I couldn't possibly--"

"Please, I insist. Tom got a promotion at work so it's not like we can't afford to treat our friends. Besides, I thought you might like to take some photos to remember this day. Perhaps your son would enjoy getting some photos with you?"

Mouth opening and closing, Emma holds the device carefully in her hand as if it might be fragile. She's always been careful with her money, never indulging in technology, only ever investing seriously in her home and her vehicle. It's the first time she's ever actually held a camera and she isn't entirely sure what to do with it.

"I, uh… Thank you, Trina. This is really generous of you."

Smiling, Trina perches her hands on her hips and pops a brow in challenge. "Why don't you give it a try right now?"

"Oh, uh…" Setting the box aside, Emma sets her finger on the big silver button and peers through the viewfinder, aiming the lens at the brunette. Trina, in turn, sets her weight on one hip and gives her most lascivious smile, batting her lashes at the camera. There's an audible  _click!_ as the little device takes the photo, whirring softly in her hands.

"When you use up the roll, feel free to bring it over to my house. I can develop the photographs for you; free of charge, since you're a friend."

Emma blushes slightly, looking uncomfortable. "Thanks, Trina."

"Thank me by taking a lot of photos," the brunette chuckles, leaning in to nudge her with her shoulder. "Believe me, photography can be such a fun pastime! After I develop the roll, you could get bigger prints made. Your walls are looking a little bare, hmm?"

"Having some photos around the house would be nice," Emma agrees with a wry smile. Just across the living room, Ruby and Belle stand chatting and laughing with Lily, Mulan, and Neal. Lifting the camera again, Emma takes a candid photo of them, then another of August and Graham where the two men stand in the kitchen, laughing and playing with Henry. With a camera in her possession, she could have more printouts of Henry, perhaps a small print for her wallet and some more around the house. She might even be able to get real photos with her parents if they find a way to safely visit her in the future.

"What do you say to a drink, Emma?"

Trina's voice pulls her back to the present, lowering the camera to glance anxiously to the woman at her side. It's the same face, the same eyes and the same smile and the same voice, but the woman smiling sweetly at her now is not her wife, not the woman she'd married. She has to keep reminding herself that, reminding herself that she needs to maintain a respectable distance when it comes to this lookalike, especially now as it seems Trina is still pushing the boundaries of their tentative new friendship with her longing gazes and too-friendly smiles.

She cannot cross that very thin line again.

"A drink?" she repeats, weary.

"The champagne I brought you when you first arrived," Trina reminds her. "You agreed that we might open it for this occasion?"

"Oh. Of course." Emma slings the camera strap around her neck and smiles politely, nodding towards the kitchen. "I'll get us both a glass."


	7. Chapter 7

The champagne is wonderful. The company is less so, because no matter what Trina tries, she cannot get the wolf of a man away from Emma's side.

And a wolf he is, if she is any judge. His wild curls of bronze hair almost reach his shoulders, and his dark beard is unkempt and almost takes up half his face. (He clearly doesn't know the first thing about personal grooming, not like Tom does, she thinks waspishly.) The fact that he, Emma, and Emma's son all match prettily in their beige and pastel green outfits only serves to further irritate her. If she hears one more person make a comment about what a beautiful family they make, she's going to pop a blood vessel.

"Quite the beard you have there," Tom says - almost appreciatively - when he and Graham start talking. They're joined by Ruby and Belle, and Trina's head aches at the frustrating challenge that is talking to Emma without getting constantly interrupted by others. She takes another long sip of her champagne to keep her otherwise snarky comments to herself.

"Thank you," Graham chuckles, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "I need to trim it though, honestly. It's getting a little long."

"A little? You'd be better off taking a lawnmower to it," Emma teases with a prod of her elbow into his side, having found some semblance of safety leaning against the counter next to him. The group stands chatting in the kitchen and Trina hovers at the other edge of the kitchen island, just outside of Emma's personal bubble, aching to be given permission to move closer.

Graham's brows pinch in confusion - because what the hell is a lawnmower? - and Emma forges onward even as Ruby and Belle laugh at her joke.

"He's only ever trimmed it with scissors so far. I'm gonna ask August to teach him the ways of the razor."

"Why wait? Come on, I'll show you," Tom offers, already grinning at Graham like a man who's just found a new best friend, and Graham instinctively looks to Emma for her permission. Trina clenches her jaw, hating his closeness with the blonde (and Tom's betrayal, because seriously?) but also glad that he's leaving.

"Careful not to scratch yourself up," Emma warns with a nod, smiling in amusement. Tom gives Graham a hearty slap on the back as the men turn for the front door.

"Come on, my place is across the street. We'll get you back within the hour looking like a new man," Tom chuckles, and then they're gone, plodding down the front lawn and across the road. Trina slides in to steal Graham's spot at the counter before anyone else can move closer to Emma.

"So, now that you've been here a while - what do you think of Winnetka?" she asks, grasping for anything to talk about. Emma rubs at the back of her neck as Ruby and Belle lean in for her answer.

"It's great. Peaceful and picturesque, really. Everyone's been friendly and I've gotten to know the neighborhood pretty well."

"Bet your munchkin likes it here, huh?" Ruby says, smiling fondly over at where Henry is currently occupied by Lily and Mulan in the living room.

"Um, yeah, he does," Emma says, never looking directly at Trina whenever Henry comes up in conversation. Trina has yet to actually hear the name of Emma's son and her ears perk up every time they talk about him, only to be disappointed.

"Hey Chief, your room off limits?" Neal asks when his scruffy head appears from around the corner. Emma makes a face at him.

"Why?"

"Leroy just told me he found a real snazzy knife in your room."

"My god," Emma groans, pushing away from the counter and hurrying around the corner with Neal on her tail. "Leroy!"

Stifling a sigh, Trina drains her glass and sets it down on the counter with a _clunk_ , staring at the many opened bottles available and debating pouring herself something stronger. She can feel Ruby and Belle staring at her but has no intention of saying anything first, instead reaching for a bottle of wine.

"Easy there," Ruby says as Belle crosses her arms and grimaces, like they're about to sit Trina down for an intervention or something. Trina can feel her inner child already prepared to stomp her foot and be petulant and uncooperative.

"You're doing that thing," Belle sighs.

"What thing?"

"Your hungry eyes."

"I don't make hungry eyes."

Both women squint at Trina, knowing damn well that's a lie because they've both been on the receiving end of Trina's _hungry eyes_ at some point or another.

"I don't!" she insists feebly. Ruby rolls her eyes.

"What happened to 'staying friends' with playmates? Are you breaking your own rules now?"

"Of course not. I'm friends with the both of you, aren't I?"

"Not us. Emma."

"I'm friends with Emma," Trina deadpans.

"Friends don't give their friends the 'hungry eyes' except during playtime, and she's not playing anymore, Trina," Belle says, somber. Her expression is pitying and Trina hates it.

"I know that."

"Sure doesn't seem like it," says Ruby, frowning. "Look, Treen, you know I love you like a--" she almost says 'sister,' but the whole friends-with-benefits thing kind of makes that sound wrong. "You know I love you, but you're getting in way too deep. Emma's out, and you're staring at her like you're planning on dragging her back into the game. That's not--"

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Trina snaps, cheeks coloring with shame, and she immediately feels like an asshole when she says it, especially when her friends recoil and frown at her. "Look, I- I'm sorry--"

"You're falling for her," Belle realizes, her voice a faint whisper. Ruby's jaw drops and Trina's eyes widen in alarm.

"I'm-- I'm not--"

"Don't you bullshit me, Trina Decker," Belle says, keeping her voice low as the three women instinctively move closer together in their corner of the kitchen to avoid being heard by others. "You have _never_ gotten upset over a playmate before, not like this, not in all the years we've known you. Now you're… you're _pining_ over Emma the way you used to pine over Tom."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Trina hisses, but the way Ruby and Belle fall silent and just stare at her, sympathy and concern and disappointment all mixed into one, she finds it hard to hold her ground. Swallowing the growing lump in her throat, she leans back slightly, stiffening her shoulders. "I've only known her a week."

"I said the exact same thing to you, once," Belle says softly, giving Trina a meaningful look.

"And Emma would likely say the same thing I did," Ruby adds, sighing. "But her situation - and yours - are way more complicated. Belle wasn't married and I wasn't a third wheel."

"What do you suggest I do, then?" Trina asks somewhat bitterly, her jaw working as she eyes the bottle of wine on the counter. "I love Tom. But this - this _thing_ with Emma--"

"End it," Ruby says, at the same time Belle says, "Well--"

The two women glance at each other in surprise, then mild confusion. Belle gives her girlfriend a searching look.

"By end it, you mean…"

"This thing with Emma." Ruby looks to Trina. "End it. You love Tom, and Emma needs a committed relationship. You're only hurting each other trying to pursue something that won't work. Give up on her and let her move on."

Trina stares at her, taken aback by the curtness of her friend's words. Ruby, who's played with her and joked with her, who is sass and teasing sarcasm personified, who is wild and devil-may-care on the best of days. Ruby, who stares at her now with hardened eyes that seem to understand something she doesn't.

"Ruby?" she says, as if saying, _'What the hell?'_ , and Belle is giving her a similar look of confusion. Ruby purses her lips and turns to her girlfriend.

"Robert, Belle. You were never married to him, you didn't even love him. I wasn't asking you to divorce someone you were in love with to be with me."

"It's not the same--" Trina begins, but Ruby pins her with a look.

"You're right, it's _not_. Ours was an easy solution. Belle willingly left the bastard. You're married to a man you love - a _good_ man - and you want her to be okay with, what, being some third wheel? Warming your bed when Tom's away? She deserves better than that, Trina."

"I know that!"

"Then stop trying!" Ruby actually looks mad now, and Belle shifts between the two to act as a buffer. "We _know_ you, Trina. We know the way you dress and the way you act when you're going after someone. Let her go."

Trina says nothing, staring at her friend in stunned silence. She knew Belle first and has always been more in tune with the other brunette, but right now, she understands Ruby more than she'd like to. She can see the conflict in her eyes, the knowledge that if Belle had been married to Robert Gold out of love, Ruby would have ran in the opposite direction, knowing that sticking around would have been far too painful.

Emma doesn't have the luxury of running away to avoid pain.

"You know what you have to do," Ruby murmurs, seeing the look of guilt crumple Trina's features. "It's for the best, Trina."

"Yeah," Trina says softly, her jaw working again as Ruby leaves the kitchen. Belle lingers, uncomfortable and uncertain, and Trina's not sure she can take another heavy dose of _'Do the right thing.'_ She feels selfish enough as is.

"You don't need to repeat your girlfriend," Trina grunts, finally giving in and pouring herself a full glass of dark red wine. She knows Ruby is right and she kind of deserved that tough-love speech, meddling as it was, but she can't help the note of bitterness in her voice. She's feeling stung regardless.

"I… was actually going to say something different," Belle admits, looking ashamed as she fiddles with her own empty glass. Trina lifts the bottle in her hand and Belle slides her glass over for a refill.

"Go on then."

"I realize that we're meddling… a lot," Belle mumbles, retrieving a very full wineglass and crinkling her brows at it. Trina just carefully clinks their glasses together and takes a swig. "The thing is, Trina, we love you, but we also care about Emma a lot. She's our friend too. Ruby really seems to empathize with her. And I don't know - I can't even imagine - what it might have been like if I'd been married to someone I loved when I first met Ruby, but…"

Trina lifts a brow at her and Belle flushes, knowing she's rambling a little.

"When I met Ruby, something was just… _right_. Like I'd been waiting all my life for someone and suddenly, there she was. I once told you, _I've only known her a week_ , and you remember what you said to me?"

"Give it time, but don't be afraid to jump," Trina says softly, her voice hoarse. Belle nods.

"Yeah. I took the jump, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm not telling you to make any big decisions right now, Trina, but give it time. Just be the friend she needs. Maybe one day, you'll know whether or not you should jump."

Trina looks up at her, questions in her indecisive eyes. Belle just smiles wryly at her and shakes her head. She shouldn't have to tell her; the jump is all or nothing. There is no halfway.

"I'd best go check on Rubes," Belle finally says, lifting her glass from the counter and turning for the living room.

"Belle--" Trina starts, making the other woman pause. "I… I didn't mean for this to cause an argument. I'm sorry for upsetting her--"

"She'll live." She smiles wryly. "I'll talk to her and the rest of the officers. They've all meddled long enough, don't you think? You and Emma are grown-ass women and can figure things out yourselves."

With that, she lifts her glass in a salute and is gone. Trina stares down into her glass for a long few moments, chewing on her lower lip as guilt sits heavily in her ribcage. Can she just be a friend to Emma? Can she look the other woman in the eye and stop thinking about all those strange dreams of them together, in some strange fantasy scenario?

With a sigh, she drains her glass in four large gulps, sets it in the sink, and ducks out of the kitchen before Emma has returned.

_I won't hurt her. She deserves better._

"Hey, Decker," Lily says when Trina passes by her on the couch, intent on heading home to check on Tom and Graham. "Keeping out of trouble?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, officer," Trina says dryly, pausing to frown at the other woman. Lily always has this challenging look about her and it's always irked her.

"Hi!" a little voice all but shouts, and she tilts her head down to find Emma's tiny son beaming at her from where he sits on the couch opposite Lily. He's clutching onto a patchy wolf plushie while Mulan, sitting by his side, acts as a personal pack mule, her lap full of stray toys and two different juice-boxes in her hands.

"Hello there," Trina says, softening her tone and giving him a smile that is surprisingly warm and genuine. He has a sweet face and soulful eyes, and he looks so much like what she always imagined her own child would look like that her chest aches just a little bit at the thought. When was the last time she thought about having a child of her own?

 _When you asked Tom and he said he wasn't ready,_ her heart reminds her. He'd promised to tell her when he felt ready to raise a child of their own.

That was six years ago.

"You Mama's friend?" the boy asks her, snapping her from her thoughts. He has a thick lisp and his R's sound like W's, and Trina can't stop the smile from touching her lips as she crouches down to be on his level.

"Yes I am. My name's Trina. What's yours, sweetheart?"

He grins, his cheeks dimpling in a way that makes her think immediately of Emma. Odd that his smile looks just like hers, even though Emma had told her that Regina is his biological mother.

 _If he looks like Regina,_ she wonders, _does that mean he also looks like me?_

From the way Mulan and Lily's eyes ping-pong between her and the boy, she guesses the answer is a resounding yes.

"I'm Henwy," he declares proudly, and for a moment, Trina doesn't recognize it, but then a familiar voice from a partially-forgotten dream echoes in her mind like a reminder.

_Henry? Like after your father?_

She blinks. Her father isn't named Henry - his name is Samuel and he's currently retired and living in Puerto Rico - but she distinctly remembers dream-Emma saying that to her. Dream-Emma tends to say a lot of things that don't make much sense to her.

"Henry," she repeats softly, tasting the name and deciding that she quite likes it. It's warmth and comfort and home, somehow. Smiling, she holds out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Henry."

Henry looks positively delighted that he's being treated like an adult, so he straightens up his posture and grabs her hand in a firm, dramatic handshake. His chubby fingers close around the side of her hand and his palm tingles against hers, olive skin against olive skin.

The next thing she knows, the smile fades from his cherubic face and his eyes go impossibly wide. Something flickers in his eyes - a gleam of color, perhaps a trick of the light - and then they're filling with tears.

"Mommy?" he whispers, his fingers suddenly glued shut around her hand. Trina's mouth falls open. Mulan visibly winces and Lily makes a strangled sound.

"Oh, no, sweetheart--"

"Mommy!" he cries, throwing himself from the couch and directly into her arms, and Trina nearly loses her balance, struggling to stay on her knees while catching the sudden weight flung at her. Everyone in the room falls silent to stare - they all know Trina Decker and she most certainly does _not_ have a child - but all Trina is aware of is the way her heart suddenly starts hammering in her chest and pounding in her ears. Her arms instinctively circle Henry's small body, holding him close, one hand against the back of his head as he buries his face against her collar and lets loose a gut-wrenching wail. It tugs painfully at her heartstrings and before she knows what she's doing, she's pressing her nose into his soft hair and murmuring soft reassurances to him, rocking him gently in her arms.

"Shh, shh, don't cry, it's okay…"

" _Henry?_ "

Emma. It's Emma's voice - breathless and alarmed and _horrified_ \- that jerks Trina back to earth all too abruptly, and then her heart is a stone in her belly and she quickly loosens her arms in an attempt to let go, only for Henry to cling to her tighter.

"Emma," Trina says anxiously, wondering how in the world she's supposed to apologize for _this_ , and Emma is suddenly by her side with this pained look on her face and her hands hovering like she wants to snatch her son back.

"What happened?" she asks instead, expression taut. Trina tries to gently push Henry off, which only results in him crying out "Mommy!" and latching on for dear life. The devastation in Emma's eyes is heartbreaking, and Trina can only curse at herself in her mind for what this must look like to the blonde. Gods, she's fucked up.

"I am so sorry," she gasps, trying to pry Henry's arms from around her neck even as the boy sobs and resists. Emma blinks back tears and grabs Henry under his armpits, lifting his weight away until his fingers finally lose purchase and he releases Trina with a shriek of protest.

"Henry, stop," she says hoarsely, struggling to carry him out of the room as his limbs kick and flail. Trina hovers, hands held out but too scared to touch, and she's trailing after Emma anxiously like she's done something wrong and wants to help, wants to get them out of the room where the entire party isn't staring at them in shock... except there are two bodies standing in the entryway blocking their path.

Tom and Graham.

Tom has this look of confused concern on his face, and Graham is freshly shaven and unfairly _handsome_ and he's giving Emma this look of worry and understanding, and Trina's jealousy almost flares up again, except--

"No!" Henry screams, fighting his mother's grip on him, his chubby little hands stretched out towards Trina the entire time. "Mommy's here! I want Mommy!"

Tom's eyes find hers, and for the first time in their relationship, Trina's not sure she likes the conflicted look of hurt and frustration on his face.

 

The house is quiet as eleven o'clock rolls around. All the guests are gone and it's just Ruby, Belle, and Trina cleaning up the remaining mess. Emma and Graham have been locked away in the bedroom trying to calm Henry for the past hour and Trina feels her chest wind up tighter with each passing minute that they're gone.

"That's the last of 'em," says Ruby, giving a grunt as she manages to fit all the empty pizza boxes into a large trash bag. She shoves the cardboard down and ties the bag shut, adding it to the collection of garbage bags sitting in the entrance waiting to be driven to the town dump.

"Well, that was certainly an eventful housewarming party," Belle sighs, dropping down onto the couch and delicately setting her heels up onto the coffee table. Ruby perches on the armchair across from her and Trina prays that her drama hasn't shoved a wedge between the two.

"Time to go, yeah?" Ruby asks, but her gaze flickers to Trina and she knows when she's being asked to leave. With a resigned nod, she stands and goes to collect her purse from the kitchen, pausing at the sight of the little sticky-note pad on the counter. After a moment's hesitation, she grabs a pen, scrawls down a quick message, and pastes it onto the fridge before heading out.

"Goodnight," she says on the way out, though Ruby and Belle stand up and leave the house right behind her. Their car is the last remaining one on the street so they wave a goodbye as Trina crosses the road to her house.

Her own home is dark and silent when she enters it.

"Tom?" she calls out softly, not wanting to wake him should he be asleep. But there's a shuffling sound and then, from the study she hears,

"In here."

She finds him at the desk in their office space, elbows on the table, one hand holding a tumbler of amber liquid while the other hand flips through an old picture album. He'd been quiet when she had decided to stay and help clean earlier, leaving with the rest of the guests shortly after the incident. He looks relatively calm now, if a little unhappy. Unsure of what to expect, Trina gingerly perches on the edge of the desk next to him.

"Hell of a party, huh?" she tries, a brief chuckle in her voice. Tom smiles - it's more of a grimace, really - and bobs his eyebrows.

"Guess you could say that."

The air is thick with awkwardness and Trina wants to punch something, frustrated at how everything has suddenly gone wrong today. Instead she says, with a waver in her voice, "Do you… is there something you want to talk about?"

His hand pauses on a page, index finger tapping gently at an old polaroid photo displayed there. Trina looks at it and frowns. It's of her - much younger, perhaps in her first few years as a flight attendant - posing by the Grand Canyon with a big, gleaming smile. She doesn't really remember it; she'd done a lot of exploring in her early days, playing tourist at every place they flew to.

"Remember this?" he says, and she grimaces in apology.

"No. Was it an important day?"

Tom shrugs, taking another sip from his tumbler and then setting the glass down. His hand remains resting on top of the glass, fingers absently rubbing at the rim out of restless habit. "We'd been dating for a few months. You were all gung-ho about seeing the world and going on adventures, said we could do it all together. I asked if you had thought about a future with me, marriage and family and all."

He looks at her, silently prompting her to continue the story. When she just stares blankly, unable to remember the conversation he's talking about, he sighs and continues.

"You said you were open to marriage, but you didn't want kids. Said you wanted the freedom to go wherever the winds took you, and if I wanted, I could follow you."

He says it softly, eyes distant and lips curved into a gentle smile. The ache in Trina's chest only grows, as does the lump in her throat.

"That was years ago," she says, brows pinching together. "I was _young_ , Tom. I didn't know that I'd want to raise a family of my own one day."

"You still want children?" he asks, confusion furrowing his features. Trina blinks in disbelief.

"Of course I do. You know I do; I _told_ you as much. I was waiting for you to be ready, remember?" She stresses the last word, willing him to realize that she'd been waiting on him. She's been waiting on him this whole time.

"I- I know, but I thought… We were having fun, weren't we? We're free to play and fool around and hop on a flight to Hawaii or Mexico or _wherever_  whenever we wanted. Don't you want to enjoy that while we still can?"

"We have, Tom, but we're not young anymore, not really." His hand settles over hers on the edge of the desk and she has to fight the instinct to pull away. "I'm getting older. And I know we could always just adopt in the future if I can't--"

"That would be a better option, right? Adopting in the future? Give a kid a good home?" he says with a hopeful smile.

"But when is the future?" Trina asks, feeling frustration bubble up to the surface. "You keep saying the future, the future. _When?_ How long are you going to delay it? Are you going to say 'the future' and then not bring it up again for another six years?"

He looks taken aback at the fact that she's kept track of it. Six years. Has it really been that long since their last talk? His forehead wrinkles in dismay.

"I'm sorry. I just-- I still don't feel ready, Trina. There's still so much for us to do before we think about having _kids_. They're a big responsibility--"

"I'm not asking for a dog, Tom. I _know_ what having children entails." She stands up, then, hand slipping out from under his as she paces across the study and runs a hand through her hair. The chair that Tom sits in creaks as he leans back in surprise, but he doesn't move to follow her.

"Why are we having this discussion?" she asks, not because she doesn't want him to _want_ children with her, but because he's clearly upset after the little incident at the Swan house and she's not sure what his point is. Tom averts his eyes and scratches at his jaw, discomfort in his features.

"I saw you with the boy-"

"Henry," she corrects, and there's something _right_ about the name, something familiar.

"Henry," Tom repeats, finally looking at her with weary eyes. "He thinks you're his mother."

"He was just confused," Trina says faintly, heart clenching.

"Because you look like his deceased mother?"

"I…" She wants to deny it, wants to say, _That can't be it, his other mother died when he was born, he shouldn't recognize her,_ but that feels like adding fuel to the flames and so instead she just shrugs weakly in agreement.

"You just let him believe that. You held him and let him think you're his mother."

"I did no such thing," she says hastily, eyes narrowing even as panic twinges at her heart, because yes, that's exactly what she'd done, no matter how briefly.

"I saw you, Trina," he says, and though his expression is hard, there's no doubting the hurt in his eyes either. "I saw you. You wanted that boy."

"His name is _Henry_. And so what? Is it so bad that a child wanted me to be his mother and I wanted him back? It's been _years_ , Tom! I can't help it that I want a child! You won't give me one!"

Her voice has risen to a trembling shout and she breaks off with a soft sob, one hand flying up to clasp over her mouth as she turns away from him to hide her tears. Tom is out of his seat in seconds, darting over to her with apology written all over his face.

"Trina, I'm sorry. Please don't cry." He gently pulls her into his arms and she lets him, crying against his chest and letting his polo soak up her tears. His large hands are warm and soothing against her spine as he rubs her back and shoulders, pressing kisses into her hair.

"I-- I can't help it--" she whimpers, shoulders trembling with each congested attempt at breathing evenly.

"Shhh, I know, I know." He scrunches his features and hugs her a little tighter. "I'm sorry for making you cry. I'm trying, Trina, I swear. I just… I'm not ready yet. I'm sorry."

She nods into his shirt, whispers "It's okay" even though it's not, not really, and when they eventually get to bed that night, she manages to remain still in his gentle embrace even as she cries herself to sleep.

 

Four days later, four days of only catching the briefest of glimpses of each other from across the street, Emma finds herself knocking on the Decker's door. There's no response, but she knows Trina had arrived home not too long ago after dropping Tom off at the airport for his next flight. Knocking again, she wonders if Trina is simply ignoring her.

"Trina? Can we talk? Please?"

She knocks again, harder, and startles when the door pops open. The knob must not have fully snapped shut when Trina shut it, and she's really not all that shocked that she didn't bother locking it, either. The Deckers - and quite a few others who live in this town - are awfully relaxed and assured that it's a safe neighborhood. Emma debates lecturing Trina about it.

"Trina?"

One booted foot hesitantly steps inside, slowly followed by the other one. There's music playing further in the house, but she has yet to hear a response from the brunette. Wearily, she shuts the door behind her and inches further into the main room.

"Trina? Your door was unlocked. I'm coming in, okay?"

Still no reply. Swallowing down her hesitancy, Emma goes in search of the music, following it into the dining room and through the big glass doors leading to their back patio and yard. There's a radio on the juice bar playing something upbeat and she glances around, seeing no sign of the other woman.

Until she notices the bare skin of a body in the pool, gliding underwater.

Emma freezes in place, unable to do anything but gawk as Trina breaks the water's surface in a graceful arc, dark hair slicking back as her head comes up first, slowly followed by the rest of her bare, slender perfection. She wears only a tight two-piece bikini, the black and white geometric pattern contrasting nicely against tanned olive skin. The bottoms have black ribbons on either side and the top has a single ribbon right between her breasts, dangling over a flat, toned stomach. The V-cut indent from her hips to her groin is painfully obvious as she shimmies and sloshes her way up the shallow end of the pool to the steps, water running down her body and dripping from her, and Emma finds that her throat is so dry she can't even swallow.

Trina wipes her eyes clear with her palms and is about to reach for a towel on a lounge chair when she finally notices Emma and stops dead in her tracks. The moment might be comical if they weren't both holding their breaths in momentary shock.

"Emma?" Trina breathes out finally, her hand dropping from where it had been reaching for the towel. She slicks back her wet hair again, nervously tucking it behind an ear when a strand stubbornly falls over her forehead.

"The door was unlocked," Emma blurts out, jerking a thumb behind her. Trina blinks slowly. Emma forces her throat to swallow.

"What are you doing here?" Trina asks after another long moment of awkward silence, still standing there and dripping water all over the concrete. The question comes out harsher than she intends and she winces, trying to reassure the blonde with a soft smile.

"I, uh…" Emma rubs at the back of her neck and averts her eyes. It's hard to concentrate on words when the V-cut of Trina's hips and toned stomach keep distracting her. "I got your note. I wanted to… talk."

Nodding slowly, Trina finally grabs her towel and begins drying at her hair, moving towards the juice bar as she does so. "Alright. Would you like a smoothie?"

Emma catches herself staring at Trina's hips and rubs at her face with an almost inaudible groan, moving towards the stool on the other side of the juice bar. "Sure."

She sits in companionable silence for a few minutes as Trina goes about making a smoothie, grabbing bananas from a bowl and strawberries and milk from the mini-fridge under the bar, tossing everything into a blender and then pouring out two tall glasses of a frothy pink beverage. Emma accepts hers with a grateful smile and is glad when Trina remains on the other side of the bar, elbows resting on the counter as she sips her smoothie through a straw.

"So…" the brunette begins hesitantly, stirring at her drink with slow but restless fingers. Emma clears her throat and sets her glass down.

"I want to apologize for Henry's behavior that night. His-- his tantrum was unexpected and I really didn't mean for him to cause any problems between you and Tom."

Trina's brows crinkle. "How did you know?"

Emma's response is a wry smile. "You two went jogging separately the day after."

"Oh. Well… You don't need to apologize. Henry's just a child, he didn't know any better. And Tom and I have gotten over it."

Emma nods, green eyes stormy with conflict. Licking her dry lips, she says, "I had a long talk with him. I don't know that he truly understands why you look like Regina but aren't her, but we're working on it. I don't think he'll freak out at you like that again."

Trina gives her an odd look. "It's fine, Emma. I'm not mad about it. Just… he knows what she looks like?"

"I've shown him an old photo," Emma lies, which backfires immediately when Trina's eyes widen a little and she asks, almost nervously,

"Could I see it? I've been curious to know how alike we really look."

"I can't," Emma stutters, brows pinching together and throat constricting. She doesn't have a photo of Regina at all. Henry had somehow _recognized_ his mother upon first touch and she has no explanation for it. "I… I can't. It's--"

Her panic ends up working in her favour, however, because Trina immediately thinks she's touched on a nerve and looks regretful.

"I'm sorry, Emma. You're not ready, that's okay. I don't mean to pry." She reaches out instinctively and sets her hand over Emma's, feeling the blonde's fingers jump under her touch before slowly, almost hesitantly relaxing and accepting the gesture of comfort. "I meant what I said in the note. Whatever you need…"

"Thank you," Emma says softly. "And… your note? The answer is yes."

Trina nods slowly in understanding. There's disappointment in her eyes, but it lasts only a moment before she says with forced enthusiasm, "Okay."

They smile tentatively at each other, their hands slowly separating as they sip at their smoothies. Trina eventually wraps the towel around herself despite the sun shining warmly on her bared skin, hiding most of her body away modestly when she realizes Emma is avoiding looking at her. They make small talk, but when they reach the bottom of their glasses it becomes obvious that their moment has come to an end, at least for the day. Trina moves around the bar as Emma stands, wordlessly escorting her back into the house and to the front door.

"Well, I uh… I guess I'll see you around," says Emma, smiling awkwardly, her hands jammed in the back pockets of her jeans. Her golden hair falls loose around her shoulders today, softly framing her face. Trina feels a quiver in her chest and squashes the feeling down with a big, platonic smile.

"See you around, dear." The term of endearment leaves her lips automatically as they both lean forward for a polite, platonic hug goodbye. Except it's not really all that platonic, not when Emma rests her chin against dark hair and hugs the painfully familiar body with her arms gentle but secure around Trina's waist, and Trina melts into a strangely familiar embrace with her nose tucked into that spot between Emma's neck and shoulder and her own arms circling Emma's trim hips. They hug a little longer than would be acceptable, memorizing the feel of each other like old lovers just reunited, and then Emma steps away with a shy duck of her head and a quick wave of her hand and Trina watches her go from the doorway, watches her walk all the way across the street and her front lawn and into her home before both women finally shut their doors.

Trina presses her forehead to the wood at the same time Emma sinks back against her own door, and though neither cry again, a dull ache settles in both their hearts and shows no signs of abating any time soon.

 

 

_Emma,_

_I'm sorry for everything that's happened today, and I don't want to make things harder for you anymore. From now on, whatever you need, if you need a friend or if you need space, just let me know and I will understand. I really do want to be friends; I hope you do too._

_Trina_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because making Tom a bad guy would be too easy, wouldn't it? Angst is always stronger when rival love interests are genuinely good people with human flaws who are just trying to work things out. But don't worry; as always, Swan Queen is endgame. Hang in there. ;)
> 
> *That pool/bikini moment is dedicated to the lovely Anon who requested it on Tumblr! ♥
> 
> And hey, please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought of the chapter! I love hearing back from you guys! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to all my readers, you guys are amazing and your comments always put a smile on my face! Special thanks for the wonderfully in-depth reviews from Slave2Writing, Oli, Nayanna, SearchingApples, and Thehotonesback; I just love hearing about your thoughts and feelings every chapter, and I always look forward to hearing from you guys whenever I post new updates! ♥

(Super special thanks to SQ SearchingApples for making this gorgeous 1976 poster! I love it!! ♥)

 

 

Being friends with Trina Decker is like playing house with dolls. They go through the motions—cheerful greetings, waving from across the street, occasionally showing up on a doorstep to borrow a cup of sugar—but it all feels staged somehow, like following a script that's expected of them. Ruby and Belle always look distinctly uncomfortable whenever they're all in the same vicinity, and though Tom insists he's gotten past the Henry debacle, he still gives Trina and Emma hesitant, uncertain looks whenever they happen to bump into each other and stop to chat. The only good to come of that day is Tom and Graham's new friendship; the men have somehow become the best of friends overnight and their easy rapport takes some of the pressure off whenever the four of them find themselves together.

Disjointed awkwardness aside, Emma relaxes a little more with each passing day, finding it easier and easier to be in Trina's presence. The polite divide in their relationship has given her the space to see Trina and Regina as two different people, and with the matching rings on her finger to ground her to the memory of her dearly departed wife, she is able to appreciate having Trina for a friend.

The other woman is lighter than Regina in many ways. Without a dark and abusive past or a filicidal mother hunting her down, Trina teases and jokes more than her previous incarnation, her smiles easy and her trust freely given. Her playful nature is infectious and though Emma continues to keep up certain walls between them, she does find herself enjoying the brunette's antics. Trina has kept her word from that fateful day; she's been nothing but a thoughtful and attentive friend, holding back the flirty banter and respecting Emma's boundaries with the care of someone afraid to ruin a good thing. On the rare occasions that she makes a slip - there was one such moment over a friendly afternoon coffee in which they'd been laughing over something and her hand had landed on Emma's thigh - she'd immediately pulled away with an apologetic smile and didn't speak of it again.

Emma had been grateful, but it was hard to forget the feel of those warm, familiar fingers brushing against her leg, leaving behind a tingling imprint that she almost missed.

"I fold," Neal sighs, slapping his cards face down on the table and startling Emma out of her reverie. She mutters the same and tosses her cards to the table, grabbing her beer bottle and downing the remaining liquid. It's room temperature, warm and bitter on the back of her tongue. She grimaces and smacks her lips with a shake of her head.

"I think I'm done for the night, boys," she sighs, and Mulan squints at her while Neal, August, and Jefferson - one of their twitchy officers whose name is actually Stanley, but everyone only ever calls him by his surname - all whine in disapproval.

"Come on, one more game, Chief," August pleads, pouting his lower lip at her from across the poker table. Neal's head bobs furiously in agreement.

"I gotta win back my twenty," he says.

"Nah, I'm done. Gotta relieve Graham from babysitting duty, anyway." She stands, pushing her chips aside and snatching up her winnings with a lopsided grin, easily folding up the bills and tucking them into the back pocket of her jeans. "Thanks for the dough, though."

The men sigh dramatically, Mulan shaking her head and shuffling the deck again as Emma yanks on her blue leather jacket and waves her goodbyes.

"See you bright and early, Cassidy, Fa," she reminds them of their shifts as she leaves, closing the door on Neal's exaggerated groan and Mulan's grumbled acknowledgement. They may act like children sometimes but they're good officers and Emma has no doubt they'll be eager and ready for duty in the morning as usual.

Hopping into the Bug where she'd parked by the sidewalk, Emma rolls down the windows and starts the leisurely cruise back home. Neal's place is across town from hers so she takes the longer route and zigzags through multiple neighborhoods in an impromptu patrol. She's slowly piecing together a mental map of Winnetka and, besides, the quiet drive is peaceful at this time in the evening. The sun's hidden below the horizon, leaving behind a darkening orange glow as night moves in, the air still warm and comfortably humid while the breeze from the moving vehicle lifts her blonde hair from her shoulders and caresses her face. It's all very picturesque, reminding her of long and leisurely rides into the countryside with Regina, days long gone in which they would sneak away together for a taste of freedom from their many responsibilities.

 _"Care to race?"_ Regina would ask her, eyes glittering and lips curled up in a grin, her hands loose on the reins and her posture perfect, back straight and thighs tensed with anticipation. Emma would eye her and, knowing that failure was inevitable against Regina's far superior riding skills anyway, dig her heels into her steed and bolt off with a stolen headstart.

 _"Catch me if you can!"_ she would holler back, head thrown back with a laugh, and Regina would smirk and coax her beloved Rocinante into a full blown gallop to chase after the cackling blonde.

The memory of Regina's devious, determined grin brings a smile to Emma's lips.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Regina's voice asks pleasantly, and Emma jerked her head to the side to find Trina jogging next to her car, easily keeping up as the Bug is rolling along at a relatively slow speed. So caught up in her thoughts and driving on auto-pilot, she hadn't even noticed the brunette on her daily evening jog.

"Hi, Trina," she greets, momentarily stilted before relaxing in her seat and flashing a quick, friendly smile. The brunette is alone, she notices, which has become more commonplace now that Tom is away for work more often. "Tom on another Tokyo flight?"

"Isn't he always, now?" Trina replies with a halfhearted roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. "He knows better than to bring home the attendants from his flights now, but the company won't let him go back to the Miami route until the rumors are forgotten."

"So it's gonna take a while," Emma surmises with feigned amusement in her voice. She's still uncomfortable being reminded of Trina and Tom's open marriage and the brunette is quick to correct herself and change the topic.

"Are you on the clock or heading home?" Her voice is light and casual, eyes curious but not prying. Emma rests an elbow in the open window, the other hand lazily resting on the bottom of the steering wheel since she's rolling in a straight line anyway. Rush hour is long over so she's one of the only vehicles on the road at this time.

"Just came from poker night, actually. Figured I'd do a quick patrol on my way home."

"Working even off the clock," Trina teases, eyes glittering. Her voice is smooth and even despite keeping up a consistent jog next to the Bug. "See, why do I need to worry about locking my front door when I know you're so diligently protecting this town?"

"I'll break into your house and replace all the sugar shakers with salt," Emma threatens. Trina just throws her head back with a laugh.

"Oh no," she says in mock terror, "I'd better run home and lock my doors right now before you can play your silly pranks."

"You do realize you're on foot and I'm driving a car," Emma points out, amused and happy to play along. Trina just gives her this playful, challenging glare, then suddenly looks ahead of the car and, with a gasp, shouts,

"Dog!"

Emma slams on the breaks, jostling in her seat and grimacing, and she's about to ask Trina if she hit the poor animal when the brunette lets out a cackle and bolts off in a dead sprint.

"You little shit," Emma says in disbelief - something she would have never said about Regina, but Trina manages to bring that out in her somehow - and then she chuckles and hurries to catch up to the fleeing brunette. She even slows down, letting Trina win the impromptu race as she cruises into their neighborhood and onto their street. Trina promptly collapses on her front lawn, panting for air and drenched with sweat, and Emma parks her Bug in her driveway with a grin on her face the whole time.

"You're crazy, you know that," she calls out from across the street, sliding out of her vehicle. Trina just shoots her a thumbs up from where she lays on the grass.

"I still won," she says, triumphant, and Emma shakes her head and laughs, heading for her front door with a departing wave as Trina remains on the ground to stretch out.

 

Henry is not an easily deterred child.

He'd given up on his screaming fits when he realized they would do him no good against his mother and uncle Graham's firm reasonings, instead taking their explanations with a grain of salt and nodding his head like he understood. And no, of course he doesn't really understand, not when he _knows_ the beautiful woman living across the street is his other mother. He can feel it in his bones, feels the ache of recognition beating in his little heart every time he thinks of that moment their hands touched, and though he realizes that something isn't quite right with his other mother - that she doesn't recognize him or his Mama, for some reason - he is determined to get her back in his life regardless. He's been biding his time, being good and cooperative until his Mama forgets all about the trouble from the party and has stopped giving him the little talks about how Mommy and Trina are two different people. He knows better.

And thus begins Operation: Get Mommy Back.

Grace is babysitting him again today while Mama is at work (and uncle Graham goes with her a lot nowadays because she wants him to learn how to be a cop too), and though he really likes Grace, he also knows he can't outright tell her about his secret plan. Instead, after they've had breakfast and she has sat him down with some toys, he coyly brings up an idea.

"Grace?" he says with his usual lisp, sitting there innocently with a toy plane in each hand, smushing their noses together in a halfhearted plane crash. Grace glances over at him from where she's reading through one of her summer school textbooks, expression open and attentive as always. She's a good babysitter, he thinks, so much nicer than that old lady who used to babysit him in Boston. She'd always smelled of mothballs and expired detergent, and she'd ignore him in favour of watching The Price is Right on their little telly at the apartment.

"What's up, Henry?" Her legs slide off the couch and she moves her textbook to the coffee table, ready to jump up if he needs something. Henry pretends to consider something, nibbling on his pouty lower lip before flashing her his most charming smile.

"Can we go play with Ina? Mama said I was allowed." Okay, it really wasn't subtle at all, but he was three and his innocent face was terribly believable.

"Ina?" Grace replies, brow furrowing in confusion. Henry points out the window to the house across the street.

"Ina."

"... Trina? You mean Mrs. Decker?" Grace seems baffled by the request and Henry just nods along. He knows Grace wasn't at the housewarming party a few weeks ago, so she surely wouldn't know about what happened.

"Uh huh. She's Mama's friend. Mama said we can go play with her."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's okay then." Grace smiles in confusion and stands, offering her hand to help Henry clamber up to his feet. "Do you want to bring some of your toys?"

"Wolfie," he says, retrieving his beloved wolf plushie from the couch and clutching it to his chest with a decisive nod. Grace helps him into his little neon green sneakers with the velcro straps and then they're walking across the street over to the Decker house, the older girl knocking on the door and smiling sweetly when Trina answers it a moment later.

"Grace?" Trina says, recognizing the neighborhood teenager but not knowing why she's at her door, and then her dark eyes fall on the tiny boy holding onto Grace's hand and her mouth falls open in surprise. Despite her and Emma's slowly growing friendship, she hasn't seen Henry since the incident at the party, and her thoughts have drifted to the heartbreakingly beautiful little boy more often than was probably acceptable. "H-Henry?"

"Hi," he says sweetly, drinking in the sight of her with the most loving expression she's ever seen. Before she can stutter through her confusion, Grace says,

"Ms. Swan said he was allowed to come play with you?" Then, being the polite little thing that she is, she adds, "If you're not busy, that is."

"Is— is that so?" Eyebrows rising up to disappear beneath her bangs, Trina eyes Henry's giant, lopsided grin with wary suspicion. She gets the feeling this is the child's machinations, as Emma would certainly not suggest such a thing (she'd know, after multiple attempts at asking about Henry and watching the blonde immediately clam up in response.) He's staring up at her with so much hope in his big doe eyes, however, and she finds it difficult to turn them away at the door. Besides, it's still early and Emma won't be off shift for hours. Surely a quick visit would be alright, wouldn't it? "Well, for a little while wouldn't hurt, I suppose. Come in."

She moves aside and they enter, Grace trailing after Henry as he's still clutching her hand. The Decker household is a pretty open space and the living room is right there in plain view, so he makes a beeline for the couch and releases Grace once they're there, the teenager gingerly sitting down as Henry waits expectantly for Trina.

Trina, for her part, is panicking just a little bit on the inside, because Tom is away at work and Emma is away at work and this little boy who seems to think she's his mommy is beaming at her like he's just been handed the world on a platter. She almost trips on the two steps up from the entryway into the main room.

"Um, what would you like to do, Henry?" she asks, now realizing she has no experience with children whatsoever despite very much wanting her own. (It doesn't help that Henry looks like he really _could_ be hers and her chest aches just a little bit at the thought.) He grins, clutching a furry toy to his chest while he points at the wide floor-to-ceiling sliding doors that lead to the backyard.

"Is that a pool? Can I see?"

"Of course, honey," she says automatically, offering a hand when he toddles towards her. Their fingers link together and there is no odd sensation passing between them this time, just the warm softness of his pudgy hand in hers.

"We be back soon," he tells Grace, and the teenager looks half amused and half disappointed that she's not invited on this little tour, but nods and smiles and tells him to have fun, resigning herself to waiting on the couch.

Trina motions to the remote controller for the telly and gives her an apologetic smile before leading Henry off.

The way his eyes widen and his mouth opens into a tiny little 'o' at the sight of the shimmering blue pool water is endlessly endearing.

"Pwetty," he says, nodding his head—which is currently too big for his tiny body—and squeezing at her fingers. "Can we swim?"

"Not today," she says, smiling softly. "Maybe you can ask your Mama sometime and come over in your swim trunks, hmm?"

"Okay." He nods again, then seems to suddenly remember the wolf plush in his other hand and thrusts it up towards her. "Wanna see my wolfie? His name is Wolfie."

When he gives it a persistent shake, she takes Wolfie from him and releases his other hand so that she can smooth down the ruffled fur around the eyes made of beads.

"He's very handsome," she says agreeably, somewhat distracted when she realizes it's made of oddly realistic fur. Her fingers brush through the soft, trimmed pelt and her mind helpfully provides: wolf. Actual wolf fur. Fingertips graze the black beads used as eyes and those, too, make something niggle at the back of her mind, and it takes her a moment to realize she's staring intently at the plush in her hands as Henry watches with a furrow in his brow.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, handing Wolfie back. Henry just hugs the plush to his chest again and smiles at her like he knows something she doesn't.

"What's your favourite food?" he asks out of left field, grabbing onto her fingers again and pulling her along on his exploration of the house. She settles her hand around his smaller one with a hesitant smile, finding his curiosity refreshing.

"Lasagne."

"Favourite color?"

"Purple."

"Favourite dinosaur?"

"Um..."

She patiently endures multiple rounds of twenty questions, baffled by his interest in her and barely able to get him to talk about himself in return. He is endlessly fascinated by everything she says and insists on holding her hand constantly, something she realizes she misses. Tom doesn't hold her hand as often as he used to, tending to loop an arm around her hips or shoulders whenever they're standing close enough instead.

"Do you 'member me yet?" he asks at some point, when they've sat down with Grace to watch a short film playing on the television, and when Trina gives him a confused smile and says, "What do you mean, Henry? Of course I know who you are," he just lays his head down on her lap and pats her knee with his little hand.

"It's okay," he says softly, and doesn't further elaborate.

 

If she'd been paying attention to the time instead of catering to Henry's every innocent request, she would have realized Emma was off work.

Instead, she has Grace settled into the armchair with a club sandwich and Henry curled up next to her on the couch chewing happily on a peanut butter and jelly, the three of them giggling over an episode of The Brady Bunch, when the sound of a fist on the front door jostles her out of her little bubble of happiness.

"Trina?" Emma's voice shouts through the door, several octaves higher than normal, followed by another quick succession of knocking. "Trina, I need your help!"

Trina's jumping up from the couch as if electrified and is halfway to the door when Emma barges in—because of course she still hasn't learned to lock her front door—panicked green eyes locking onto panicked brown ones.

"I'm sorry," the blonde blurts out, eyes only for the brunette even as Graham trails in behind her with a noise of surprise, "but Henry and his babysitter are missing and I don't know where they would've gone and I was hoping you saw—"

And then she sees Henry and his babysitter just past Trina, sat in front of the TV with sandwiches in hand, and her entire demeanor changes in an instant. She gapes at first, shocked and surprised, and then the fear in her eyes hardens into anger and she looks absolutely livid when she points a finger accusingly at Grace and ignores the way the girl cringes.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

"I— I'm sorry, I don't—" Grace suddenly looks mortified and two seconds away from crying even as Emma forges onward, face turning red with fury. Graham and Trina both stare in surprise.

"You just left the house with my _son_ without even calling me or leaving a note— I never said you could take him out of the house, I explicitly _said_ —"

"Emma," Trina cuts in hurriedly with her hands held up in a placating gesture, quite afraid that Grace may burst out crying at any second. "Emma, please calm down, it's not her fault."

"It's not _her_ fault— whose fault is it?" And then angry green eyes are shifting onto her and Trina winces, her heart plummeting into the pit of her stomach as she realizes that, somehow, she's once again fucked up. Their tentative friendship is so very precariously balanced and she's gone and fucked it up again.

"They came to visit," she says, dropping her voice and moving closer to Emma in an attempt to take the heat off of the children. Emma takes a stiff step backwards and Trina moves between her and the kids, hands still hovering peacefully in the air between them. Graham stands frozen a few paces behind Emma, not wanting to get between them. "I think Henry told Grace he was allowed to come over, so she brought him. I should have told her the truth, and I'm sorry I didn't. I thought it would be okay to let them play here for a little while, I didn't mean for it to get so late. I'm so sorry, Emma."

"You—" A hand rises to pinch at the bridge of her nose, green eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if swallowing down the information given to her, and then she's giving Trina a harsh glare again, the angry tendon in her neck prominent. "You knew how I felt about Henry and his— god, you _knew_ and you were going to, what, let him play here a bit and then send him home and not tell me? Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"No!" Trina cries, horrified at the implication. "I was going to tell you later, I swear! I would never hide that from you!"

"You shouldn't have taken him in in the first place! You should have told Grace to take him home!"

"Stop!" Henry shrieks, his voice cracking with teary frustration, and both women look over to find him standing on the couch with his hands balled into little fists, his sandwich abandoned on the couch and his face red. "Stop fighting!"

" _Henry,"_ Emma says sharply, her voice caught between angry and worried, and Trina can't stop herself from blurting out,

"I know I shouldn't have, but he just wanted to play here for a little while and I couldn't say no. He's alright and there's no harm done, right?"

Emma turns a shade more red and pinches at the bridge of her nose again, moving to go retrieve Henry even as she says snappishly, "Trina, please, just _don't_ —"

"Stop yelling at Mommy," Henry demands, tearful and frustrated as he jerks away from Emma's hands, and Emma's jaw ticks and she shoots Trina another hard look over her shoulder.

"Now look what you've done," she says, the accusation cutting through Trina like a hot knife. She grabs Henry around the waist and picks him up despite his protesting cries. "Stop it, Henry. Trina is not your mother."

He glares at her, honest to god _glares,_ and Emma sucks in a sharp breath and passes him off to Graham instead with a curt, "Take him home."

"She is! You know she is! She doesn't 'member!" He kicks and shouts, and Graham looks apologetically at both women before hauling the child out the door and all but sprinting across the street and back to the Swan house. Emma's voice is frosty when she finally speaks.

"Ignore him, he's just confused and making up stories." With hands still trembling, Emma fumbles for her wallet and nearly rips a bill in half in her haste to hold it out to Grace.

"Go home," she says sharply, and a part of her feels bad when she sees the sheen of tears in the teen's eyes but it's too late now to show weakness as Grace feebly shuffles over and accepts her pay for the day. "And rest assured I'll be having a talk with your father about this. You're the daughter of a cop, you should know better."

Jefferson's going to be pissed.

Grace just ducks her head and mumbles an apology and flees the house, leaving Emma and Trina standing there in what suddenly feels like minus zero degrees. Emma's shoulders are tense and she visibly jerks when Trina's fingertips gently tap her on the back.

"Emma, I'm sorry," Trina insists, her heart sitting heavily and painfully in her gut. "I didn't mean to confuse him."

"Yeah, well, you did," Emma says, and it sounds like the anger is escaping her like a flattening tire, her shoulders slumping and her hands finally dropping still by her sides. "He was never supposed to even know you looked like her, and now it... it's all fucked up."

The profanity makes Trina wince and she wrings her hands together in front of her to resist touching the prickly blonde again. Emma still won't turn around to face her, her head tilted down and her hair curtaining her face.

"I'm really, really sorry," Trina says again, the apologies starting to feel far too familiar on her tongue.

"Yeah, I got that." Emma sighs, turning and glancing only briefly at her before staring absently across the living room instead. "Look, maybe this was all a bad idea—"

" _No_ ," Trina says sharply, frustration bubbling up. "Look, I know I made a mistake, but Henry has been very adamant too. Have you thought that perhaps the best way to deal with this was to actually _deal_ with it? Let me talk to him. Let's sort this out and help him understand instead of simply telling him he's wrong."

Except he's not wrong, not really, and Emma doesn't know how to lie around that, nor does she have the energy to try and deal with Trina right now. Rubbing at her face, she turns away and motions sluggishly at the door.

"I need to... think. Can we just..." A sigh. She pushes a hand through her hair. "I can't deal with this today, Trina."

Trina blinks slowly and feels herself wilt a little in place. "Yeah... Okay."

Emma just sighs again and heads for the door, leaving Trina with a vague wave of the hand and a mumbled "bye."

Trina spends the rest of the evening stress-baking.

 

When Emma answers her door the next morning, she doesn't expect to be greeted by a tray of muffins.

"Morning," Trina says, sheepish, the tray held out like a peace offering. She's in high waisted white pants and a patterned halter top today, makeup lightly done but the bags under her eyes apparent after a sleepless night. "I made muffins... Are you still mad?"

"Oh, wow," Graham says, suddenly appearing behind Emma like a wolf smelling prey. He eyes the tray and reaches out to poke his knuckles into Emma's side, ignoring her side-eye. "You're not mad, right, Emma?"

"No, I'm not mad," Emma sighs, rolling her eyes as Graham cheerily accepts the muffins on her behalf and bounces off into the kitchen with it. Trina frowns after him briefly but soon pins Emma with another hang-dog look that has her stifling a smile. "Okay, knock it off. I get it, you're really sorry. I'm honestly not mad."

Trina perks up.

"... anymore."

"I'll take it," the brunette says with a little smile. There's a solid _thunk_ from the kitchen and they both turn to look across the living room through to where Graham is banging the tray upside-down against the counter in an attempt to dislodge the muffins. "... I'm also a terrible baker. I'm sorry."

"Did you spray pam on the tray before you poured in the batter?" Emma asks, brows pinching together, because even _she_ knows that. Trina purses her lips and blushes. "Um, it's okay. He can pry them out with a knife, probably."

Stepping back, Emma rubs at her neck and gives a tilt of her head. "Come on in."

"Henry forgot his Wolfie yesterday," Trina says, fishing the stuffed animal from her handbag and passing it over as they move into the living room. Emma accepts it with a nod and tosses it onto the coffee table as they sit down across from each other, Emma on the couch and Trina perching in the armchair, while Graham continues to whack the tray against the counter in the kitchen. Giving the room a cursory sweep, Trina sighs and laces her fingers together on top of her knee.

"So, Emma—"

"You were right yesterday," the blonde says with a grimace. "I'm sorry for how I handled things. I freaked out when I thought Henry had gone missing and I took it out on you. But you were right, Henry's stubborn and his— his delusions aren't going to go away unless we address them and—"

"Maybe don't call them delusions," Trina interrupts, frowning. "He's not crazy. He's a child, Emma. He's just confused is all."

"Fine, whatever you want to call it; I think that sitting down and talking it through with you there will help him accept the facts."

"I'm happy to help in whatever way you need," Trina asserts with a decisive nod, wanting nothing more than to smooth over their tentative friendship once more. "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to say to him?"

A furrow appears between Emma's brows as she mulls that over. "I... I don't know." How does one convince a magical little boy that his mother is not his mother? There must be some remnant of his inner magic still alive within him for him to have reacted the way he had. He _knows_ , and that's what scares Emma most.

"We could pretend they're twin sisters?" Graham suggests as he enters the living room, tray in one hand and a knife in the other. He sits on the couch next to Emma and begins the arduous process of carving the muffins out of the tin. "Closest to the truth without outright telling him he's wrong."

Trina looks confused by his wording and Emma pushes forward before the brunette can think through it too deeply.

"I don't want to lie to him."

"He's as stubborn as Regina," Graham points out, feeling only moderately bad when Emma grimaces. "We've spent weeks trying to convince him otherwise and he still doesn't believe us. What better excuse than to say they were twins?"

Emma and Trina both look ready to protest. "But—"

"You _do_ look like a carbon copy of Regina," Graham tells Trina. "Most people would have a hard time believing you weren't related."

"I... I suppose there's little else that would convince him," Emma relents after a moment.

"If— if that's what you want," Trina agrees uncertainly, looking none too comfortable with the idea but not wanting to argue with Emma. "But wouldn't that make me his... his aunt?"

Emma and Graham both wince.

"It would," Graham admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. Trina sees Emma doing that all the time and she hates it just a little bit that Graham can look so awkwardly endearing when he does the same thing.

"And that would make me your sister-in-law," Trina says slowly, watching as discomfort flashes loud and clear across Emma's face. "Pretending to be Regina's twin is going to make things way more complicated."

"Is there a better way to explain to a stubborn three year old why you look and sound just like her?" Graham asked. Trina pursed her lips.

"I _sound_ like her too?"

"Eerily so," he offers, to which she narrows her eyes and says nothing.

After a moment, Graham frees a muffin from the tin and sets it on the coffee table, then continues sawing away at the rest.

"If that's what we're going with..." Emma trails off, uncertain. They all look uncomfortable with the idea, but no one has a better idea that will work on Henry and no one wants to be the one to complain. Trina readjusts her hands on her knees and Emma clears her throat, standing. "If it's okay with you, Trina, I guess... I should go get Henry?"

"Of course," Trina says with a tight smile, though her eyes say otherwise. Emma makes an awkward gesture with her hand before disappearing down the hallway to retrieve her son from where he plays quietly in his bedroom. Graham chances a glance up and immediately regrets it when the brunette shoots him a resentful look, blaming him for suggesting "twins" in the first place.

"I guess that makes us kind of siblings-in-law as well?" he offers, trying a smile. Dark eyes narrow at him and he swallows down his discomfort and goes back to cutting out muffins.

A minute later, Emma returns with Henry in her arms, the little boy pouting belligerently and wriggling in protest. His eyes land on Trina, however, and immediately light up with excitement.

"Mommy?" he cries in surprise, flailing until his mother sets him down so that he can rush over and throw himself across Trina's lap in a hug. Trina settles a hand on his back and smooths down his hair but otherwise does not encourage the embrace.

"Henry, sit down, please. Trina and I need to speak with you."

He frowns at his mother but doesn't move, little fingers winding into the fabric of Trina's pants. "Why?"

"We wanted to talk to you about why I look like your Mommy, honey," Trina says softly, watching as a myriad of emotions crosses the little boy's face. Surprise, hope, curiosity. Emma clears her throat and says, as evenly as possible,

"She's Mommy's twin sister, Henry. That's why they're just like each other."

Whatever Trina might expect to see on his face, disappointment isn't one of them. It isn't the disappointment of being wrong - it's because they lied. She can see it right away, the way he frowns over at his mother in disapproval and then glances up at her as if she's betrayed him.

"Twin sister?" he repeats, unimpressed.

"That means she's your Auntie Trina," Graham offers kindly, halfway through cutting the muffins out of the tray. Emma and Trina nod their heads stiffly as Henry looks between them all, silent and frowning with a little furrow between his brows.

_He knows. He knows we're lying._

Trina holds her breath, awaiting his accusations.

After a moment, Henry nods.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Emma repeats faintly, her gaping mouth matching the surprise of the others. Henry nods again, shrugging his little shoulders and draping himself over Trina's lap again.

"Okay. Can I play with Auntie Ina?"

"Uh..." Emma looks to Graham, seeking assistance. He looks just as troubled but says, as soothingly as possible,

"Henry, we need to discuss yesterday. Just because we know that Trina is your aunt, doesn't mean you can go to her house to play whenever you want, alright?"

When he gives Graham a questioning look, the man continues,

"You always need to ask your Momma or myself for permission first, do you understand? We need to know where you are."

Trina bristles at the insinuation that Graham has any say in Henry's life, some part of her flaring up with indignation. _You have NO say in that_ , she thinks fiercely, but holds her tongue, unsure of where the possessive thought came from.

"Okay," Henry says again, an innocent look on his face. "Mama, Uncle Gwaham, can I play with Auntie Ina?"

Dismayed, Emma meets Trina's apologetic gaze. "She can stay and play with you if she's not busy, Henry."

When Henry's gaze inevitably falls on the brunette with a full on pout, Trina already knows she can't say no to that.

"Just for a little while," she offers with a small smile. Henry grins and immediately drags her off to his bedroom to show her his toys, snatching up Wolfie from the coffee table on the way.

"You realize this means we have to let him spend time with his "Auntie Trina" now, don't you?" Emma says lowly, somewhat accusingly. Graham reaches out to set a hand on her shoulder and she shrugs him off.

"It's for the best, Emma. You know he wasn't going to let this go." Sitting back, he puts the muffin tray on the table and sighs. "Some part of him knows Regina is in there."

"I know. I don't know how, but I know." She rubs both hands over her face, scrubbing at weary eyes, glad that she hasn't had a chance to put on any makeup yet today. "Every time I think we've found solid ground, our relationship gets even more complicated."

"Maybe it's a sign," Graham tries. Emma glares at him.

"Stop it. You know why I won't get involved with Trina."

He holds up both hands in surrender, though he doesn't look very sorry. "You never know what the future brings, princess. Perhaps she will regain her memories and leave Tom to be with you again."

"I thought Tom was your new best friend," Emma accuses, standing and moving away from him like a sulking teenager. Graham watches her go with sad eyes.

"You will always come first to me," he says softly as she disappears to go sulk in the kitchen.

 

"Dis." Henry shoves a soft, cream-white blanket into Trina's hand. She holds it carefully, giving him a baffled look as he sets his hands on his hips expectantly. He'd ordered her to sit on his bed and had snuck out momentarily, only to return from what she presumed had been the master bedroom with some sort of knitted blanket in his hands.

"What's this, Henry?" She turns it over in her hand and finds the name 'Emma' embroidered in one corner with deep purple thread, finished off with a silky purple ribbon.

"Mama's blanket. Gammy made it."

Again, he stares at her as if expecting... well, something. She's not quite sure, though she feels immediately awkward with Emma's baby blanket in her hand. It's still clean and well cared for, so it's clearly a beloved and personal item. Emma probably wouldn't appreciate her holding it.

"Henry, you should put this back. Your Mama wouldn't want you taking her things without asking."

He doesn't respond, instead dropping down onto his butt near her feet and scooting over to start playing with a variety of toy cars and trucks on the carpet. Trina looks around at the little bed she sits on, wondering if she can just set Emma's blanket aside here and feign ignorance if Emma comes in to check on them.

"Mama said Gammy was gonna make one for me too, but she couldn't 'cause you went away after I was born and Mama took me to Baston and said we couldn't go see Gammy and Gampa anymore 'cause they was too far away."

"Bas— Boston, you mean? Wait—" Trina hesitates, her heart sinking in her chest until it sits uncomfortably in her gut. He's still talking to her as if she's his Mommy. Emma's going to be mad when she finds out. "Henry, sweetheart, we already told you, I'm not your Mommy. I'm your Mommy's sister. Your Mommy had to— to go to heaven after you were born."

He turns just enough to look up at her, his nose scrunching up. "I know you're Mommy. It's okay, we don't have to tell Mama, she not ready yet."

His serious face breaks out into a reassuring grin and then he's turning his attention back to his toys again, shifting just enough so that he's leaning up against Trina's shins while he plays. At a loss for words, Trina just watches him for a few minutes, nervously picking at the knitted blanket in her hands. Her fingers snag in the purple ribbon and she glances down to examine the stitched name again, stroking the familiar wool with hesitant fingers. Before she knows what she's doing, she's holding the blanket up to her face and gently nuzzling the fabric, breathing in deeply of what she immediately knows is Emma's scent. It's subtle and comforting, like the smell of sweet grass and lilies on a cool summer's day.

 _"I don't know why you won't let my mother knit one for you too,"_ Emma teases.

Trina jerks her head up, embarrassed at being caught, but there's no one at the doorway and Henry is still occupied with his toys.

"Henry—" she starts, uncertainty coloring her voice. She was so _sure_ she'd just heard Emma's voice, loud and clear. Dark eyes fall on the blanket in her hands again, questioning.

"You can put it back in her room," Henry says from his place on the floor. "Mama always keeps it in her bed when she sleeps."

Suddenly jittery, Trina extricates her leg from behind him and escapes the room, ducking just across the hall into the master bedroom. She all but throws the blanket onto the bed and turns to flee again, but the gleam of a blade on the dresser top catches her eye and she falters, stopping abruptly near the doorframe to look at it. This must be the knife Leroy had been talking about at the party weeks ago. She can't control the impulse to pick it up, the dagger's weight comfortingly heavy and familiar in her hand.

She's never held a bladed weapon before in her entire life, but her fingers close around the handle and she turns the blade this way and that in awe, stopping to examine the crest on the bottom of the handle.

She _knows_ the symbol. From where, she can't say, but it's like an itch at the back of her skull, this _familiarity_ with a symbol that should have been foreign to her. She recognizes it and can't help but feel reverent towards it, as if the symbol was a part of her as well.

_Our family crest._

"Trina?"

Graham's voice is so sudden that she jumps away from him with a strangled gasp, knuckles turning white as she grips the knife harder. He throws up his hands in a placating gesture, eyes widening with concern.

"It's just me," he says, eyes worriedly flickering to the dagger in her grip. "Can you put that down?"

"S-Sorry," she manages, returning the weapon to the dresser. To her surprise, Graham doesn't comment on why she's in Emma's room or touching random weapons, instead jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"I was just checking in on you and Henry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She pushes past him and into the hallway, suddenly nervous. "I think I should get going."

The declaration is loud enough that Henry hurries out from his room, already pouting. "But—" his eyes land on Graham and he says instead, "But Auntie Ina, we was gonna play."

"I'm sorry, Henry, maybe another day," she offers, already hurrying down the hall and avoiding his pleading eyes, knowing she'll lose the battle if she looks at his face. His little fingers manage to grab onto her pant leg and halt her by the front door.

"Hug g'bye?" he requests, lower lip jutted out. She reluctantly drops to her knees to hug him, feeling his pudgy arms squeeze around her neck as he buries his head just under her chin. She'd hoped to escape before facing Emma but the blonde is already approaching them with a furrow in her brow.

"You're heading out?" Emma asks, cocking her head.

"Yes, I have errands to run before the stores close," Trina lies, forcing a smile as she gently extricates herself from Henry's grip.

"Kisses," he requests sweetly, turning his cheek towards her. Trina hesitates before planting a soft kiss to his cheek, straightening up and reaching for the doorknob. "Auntie Ina, hug Mama goodbye too!" Henry says quickly, grinning. Emma and Trina both stiffen.

"Don't mind him," Emma says, smiling awkwardly. "Have a good day, Trina."

"Hug," Henry repeats, his smile immediately turning into a frown. Just wanting to get it over with and make her escape, Trina steps over and slides her arms around the blonde, instinctively leaning her head sideways against Emma's as the other woman reluctantly hugs her back.

"Kisses too," Henry chirps. Her heart tight in her chest, Trina turns her head and presses her lips to Emma's cheek before pulling away and opening the front door.

"See you later," she says, and then she's gone, the door snapping shut behind her. Henry looks immensely pleased with himself as he toddles back to his room to resume playing.

"Are you... are you okay?" Graham asks, taking in the tense stance Emma has frozen in. The blonde grimaces and rubs at the back of her neck.

"Henry's a little shit," she mutters. He chuckles low and gently slings an arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the kitchen.

"Well, at least he seems to have accepted his 'Aunt Trina.' Need a beer?"

"Please."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still read each and every one of your reviews, and I hope you guys know they put the biggest smile on my face! Thank you all for sticking with me - I promise I will complete this fic one day! Life just delays me sometimes. ;)
> 
> Here's a quick mention that my Swan Queen Supernova submission "Oathbound" officially comes out tomorrow (or later today, depending on your timezone) - all 85k of enchanted-forest-esque AU goodness! Please keep an eye out for it and remember to leave me some reviews! I know you've all been impatiently waiting for a novel-length completed fic from me. I hope you like it. :)

****The glow of the bedside lamp casts a sharp yellow tinge across the pages of her journal as Trina scribbles away, squinting through the bleariness of sleepy eyes and rushing to get her memories recorded on paper. The bedroom is silent except for the soft scratch of her pen, dimly lit but for the pale morning light spilling through half-opened curtains. When she's written all that she can remember, she pauses and rereads the latest entry penned down in haphazard, swooping cursive.

_She said she loves me. She says it all the time in my dreams. We're at some sort of dinner party, we're at the front of the table and not everyone likes me, but David and Snow makes an effort to involve me in conversation and Emma holds my hand under the table. A man (baron?) says something passive aggressive and Emma snarks him and then leans in to whisper in my ear. She makes a joke about his moustache and I laugh - and people look at me like they've never heard me laugh before._

It's the latest dream to visit her during the nights, though as the days pass, she's becoming more and more certain that they're more than just over-imaginative dreams. They're too detailed, too precise. Every dream seems to take place in the same fantastical world, somewhere along the same timeline, all of them involving Emma or those closest to Emma. Infuriatingly, this includes Graham, but Trina's been debating using what she's learned in these 'dreams' of hers to make his life miserable. (And if she's right and he visibly reacts to her newfound knowledge of his irrational fear of mice, it will only prove that her dreams are more than just dreams.)

Further up the page, she gazes over the abrupt notes from previous nights, scattered thoughts and questions.

_Castle - the 'White' Kingdom? It's mine and Emma's. She's the Queen and I'm some sort of Queen Consort. Same family crest as the one on Emma's dagger?_

_Snow and David - Emma's parents? Knitted blanket on Emma's bed_

_Henry David. Named after our fathers?_

_Cora_

Her throat tightens every time she thinks of that name. She'd dreamed of her only once - vivid memories of a dark, bare bedroom and a cold woman who loomed over her, hand raised to strike, lips curled into a sneer. The dream had morphed into a forest, thick greens and uneven grounds, branches tearing at her dress as she fled from Cora and what felt like a childhood manor. She could remember the aching bruises, the sting of wounds cut into her skin, the cold fear seeping through her veins as she'd ran with wild abandon. Remembered being caught once, tangled in vines that had a mind of their own, tears dripping down her cheeks as she'd cried, _"Please, Mama, don't— I'll be good!"_

"Trina? I'm home." Tom's voice echoes softly down the hall and Trina snaps her journal shut, hiding it away in her bedside drawer beneath a thin stack of magazines, scattering a few tubes of lipstick and nailpolish bottles on top for good measure. There's a soft thump of footsteps and then the bedroom door swings open, Tom peering in with a gentle smile. "Hey. Goodmorning, beautiful."

"Tom." Trina sits up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes as he pads over and leans down to kiss the top of her head. His work suitcase slides into its usual place in the corner to be unpacked later. "Did your flight arrive early? Why didn't you call me to pick you up?"

"We got in at just after four, I didn't want to wake you. Caught a ride back with Jerry since he had his car at the airport lot." He tosses his pilot's cap onto the dresser and goes about undressing, carefully hanging up his uniform and then pulling on a soft pair of sweatpants. Barefoot and shirtless, he leans over the bed to kiss her again, this time sweetly on the mouth, before jerking a thumb towards the door. "How about I start breakfast? Waffles?"

"Mm. Sounds good. Thank you." Cupping his face, she pulls him in for one more kiss before sending him on his way, slowly rising from bed to prepare for the day. A hot shower clears her mind and puts her Emma-related thoughts on the backburner, enough that she can enjoy a lovely breakfast with her husband and then spend some time out by the pool.

He's stretched out on a lounger, in a pair of grey and green swim shorts that she'd bought him last year, skin golden in the sunlight and chest glistening with sunscreen. Trina reaches across the scant space between their loungers to trail her fingertips down his torso and coax a happy rumble from him, gently brushing down the tuft of neat hair on his chest. Her hands yearn for soft flesh and smooth skin, and she idly wonders if Tom would shave his chest if she asked him to.

"I should hit the supermarket while it's still early," she says after some time, standing and placing her sunhat over Tom's face. He chuckles and tugs it away, setting it onto her lounger.

"If you grab a couple nice steaks, I'll grill us up my specialty tonight," he suggests, wagging his eyebrows. She smiles and nods, already turning back towards the house.

"Sounds like a plan, dear."

A quick trip into the bedroom to switch into a patterned sundress and she's off, taking the convertible into town and pulling up at the usual supermarket. Exchanging greetings with half a dozen familiar faces as she makes her way inside, Trina heads straight for the meat aisle, carefully picking out the best available frozen steaks. They're on sale and she's got plenty of room in her freezer at home, so she has five stacked in her cart and is picking out a sixth when she feels a prickling presence at her side.

"Feeding a pack of wolves?"

She turns her head to find Graham smiling wryly at her, neatly shaven and with a fresh haircut, his bronze curls falling just so over his forehead and making him unfairly handsome. He reaches into the freezer and plucks up a few frozen steaks for inspection.

"Merely stocking up." Trina sniffs and decides on a sixth steak, then glances over at the mild look of distaste on his features. He grimaces before reluctantly placing the steaks into his cart. "Are they not to your standards?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure they're fine." He manages to turn his grimace into a smile. "I'm just used to something more... fresh."

"You're a hunter," Trina surmises, thinking automatically of her male friends in their camouflaged clothing, with hunting rifles and photos of their strung-up caribou and bears.

"Ah, yeah," Graham agrees with some awkwardness, and another image of him in leathers and furs with a knife in hand and a bow over his shoulder comes to her mind unbidden, his hair shaggier and his teeth bared in a wolfish grin. Trina shakes the image away.

"Where's Emma?" she asks instead, pointedly. Graham tips his head and she turns to see the blonde ambling towards them, juggling Henry in one arm and a watermelon in the other. At the sight of her, Henry flings out his arms with a shriek of, "Auntie Ina!" and Emma struggles to keep him from falling to an untimely demise.

"Henry," Emma scolds softly with a click of her tongue, but her hesitance is minimal when Trina steps towards her and catches Henry up in a hug.

"Hello, darling," the brunette cooes, affection bubbling up in her chest as he presses his lips to her cheek in a wet, sloppy kiss.

"Hi Mommy," he breathes against her ear, nuzzling into her embrace, and her heart gives a little flutter like it always does. After many weeks of the same whispered, conspiratory greetings, she cannot help but feel like he just might really be hers.

It's a dangerous thought, and she tries not to think too hard on it. Especially when Emma continues to watch the both of them like a hawk, not with suspicion but with a muted kind of sadness. Like she's constantly being reminded of something she cannot have, something Trina can't give her.

"How are you?" Emma asks pleasantly, the sadness disappearing behind a sunny enough smile. They've managed to salvage their tentative friendship these past weeks, but there are still moments of uncertainty between them, things they don't talk about and situations they avoid. It's a constant cycle of falling into something easy and comfortable and familiar before life reminds them that their relationship isn't nearly that simple.

"Fine, thank you. You?"

"We're good."

More too-wide smiles and lingering gazes. Graham clears his throat uncomfortably.

"Where's Tom?" he asks.

"At home," Trina replies briskly. "He just got back from his last flight." She glances down at the generous stack of steaks in her cart and then looks back at Emma and Graham. On occasion, his and Tom's friendship can be used in her favor. "Why don't you three come over for dinner tonight? Tom's bringing out the grill and making his special barbeque sauce."

Graham perks up at the thought, glancing to Emma like a puppy seeking permission. It irks Trina like always, but Emma's soft smile soothes her irritation as the blonde nods agreeably.

"Sure, sounds like fun. What can we bring?"

"Just yourselves. Say around six o'clock?" Trina flashes her winning smile and Emma ducks her head a little shyly before taking her son back, leaving Trina's arms feeling uncomfortably empty.

"Cool. See you then." The trio wanders off with waves of goodbye and a small pout from Henry, and Trina just watches them go with a stifled sigh. It should be _her_ walking next to Emma and Henry, not _Graham_ , and she tries not to think of how she's betraying Tom with that blasphemous thought, but then—

"Oh, a mouse!" Trina cries out abruptly, and she can't deny that the sight of Graham leaping sideways with a yelp and crashing into a pyramid of canned corn brings her a certain amount of wicked pleasure. Emma and Henry look bemused and a nearby clerk scowls at the mess while Trina shrugs apologetically and meanders off with a barely contained smirk.

 

"Graham and Emma will be joining us for dinner tonight," Trina says casually as she goes about unpacking groceries, half hidden by the refrigerator door. Tom twists around in his seat on the couch and squints across the open-spaced living room to the kitchen, not quite annoyed but mildly suspicious.

"Oh?" is all he says.

"Mmhmm."

"And their kid?"

" _Emma's_ kid," Trina corrects sharply, anger flaring at the insinuation that Henry is Graham's. "Henry. Yes, he'll be coming too."

Tom continues to look at her warily and she avoids him, remaining hidden behind the fridge door. They don't speak of the boy and Trina has been careful to only invite Emma and Henry over when Tom is away at work. Granted, it's more often Henry accompanied by Grace while Emma retains a polite distance, but Tom likely wouldn't be happy to know either way.

"All's good with the boy?" he asks after a moment of silence. Trina gives a long-suffering sigh. He's asked that question multiple times in the past weeks now.

" _Yes,_ Tom. We told him I'm Regina's twin sister. He think I'm his aunt."

He nods, like always. Then, "I just don't want him getting confused is all."

"He knows exactly who I am to him," Trina says, and Tom nods again and returns to watching the television, oblivious to the accuracy of her words.

His mood is considerably brighter that evening when Graham is the first one through the door, cracking open a couple of beers and lighting up a cigar to share. Despite being absolutely baffled by Graham's lack of knowledge on how to use a grill, Tom is more than happy to teach him, so the men disappear out to the backyard while Trina and Emma settle down in the living room with a glass of red wine each, Henry sprawled out on the plush carpet in front of them and playing with Wolfie.

"Tell me about your family, your parents, where you came from," Trina prompts, her smile wide and inviting. She's been so _invested_ lately and Emma is never quite sure how to feel about it, especially now when Trina sits with her body facing her, legs tucked up and eyes attentive. The woman drinks in everything she says with a new amount of interest, asking questions that most people making polite conversation wouldn't bother with.

"There's not much to tell," Emma tries to deflect, but Trina stretches out a leg to poke her insistently with her stockinged toe, and so she relents. "I'm an only child. My parents are quite... wealthy, so I was rather spoiled as a little girl. Graham came into my life when I was young and he's been like a brother to me ever since."

Trina squints her eyes a little in disbelief. "He seems rather affectionate with you for a brother."

Emma can't help but laugh, and it's a mixture of amusement and melancholy. Regina used to be just as suspicious of Graham's relationship to her. "Please, I love him as a brother and nothing more."

"I see," Trina murmurs, but it's obvious she still has her doubts. "Your parents. What are their names?"

Emma chews momentarily on her lower lip before replying. "David and Snow."

"Snow?"

"My mother's parents were... hippies."

An odd look passes over Trina's features, but it's gone as quick as it had come, and she smiles and nods for Emma to continue. "Where are they now?"

"Oh, back home," Emma says quickly, too casually. "It's pretty far off, so we don't really visit each other."

"You must miss them."

"Of course." Emma's smile softens, green eyes crinkling. "What about you? Your parents?"

"Samuel and Dolores," Trina replies easily. "They divorced when I was a teenager. My father is living in Puerto Rico and my mother is in New York. Tom and I visit them for Christmas sometimes but they travel often, so I don't see them as much as before. Tell me about your childhood home."

Emma spends most of her evening telling half-truths, talking about the castle as if it were a villa, the staff as if they were hired help, the kingdom as if it were a massive neighborhood. Tom eases up to her presence while Graham punctuates her stories with half-truths of his own and Henry just soaks up their conversation hungrily, eating up every word and occasionally glancing to Trina with a barely contained smile of excitement.

Trina's head swims with possibilities and questions and despite having willingly brought this all on herself, she can already feel a migraine creeping its way up around to the front of her skull.

"Are you alright, babe?" Tom asks quietly as they all sit around the dining table finishing off dessert. "You look tense."

His eyes flicker to her forehead in concern, where a large vein has made itself quite prominent upon otherwise flawless skin. Trina unclenches her aching jaw and presses her fingertips to her temple with a grimace.

"Just a headache. Would you mind getting me an Aspirin?"

"Of course." He stands, kissing the top of her head before striding into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water and some medication. Across the table, Emma's eyes are on the vein and her expression is weary. "What?"

"Nothing," she says, too quickly with a flash of a smile. "Is it bad? Do you want to call it a night?"

"No, no. I'm fine, really. Please, stay a while longer? Tom has been in sore need of pool partners."

"If you're sure," Emma says, uncertain, but she doesn't complain when Tom returns later and shows them all to the new pool table he's had installed in the basement lounge. Henry entertains himself over at the myriad of bean-bag chairs in the corner while the four adults set up a game, and just a few shots in, Trina's brows are tightly furrowed and her eyes are bright with discomfort. With Tom showing Graham how to properly line up his next shot, Emma siddles next to the brunette and lowers her voice.

"Is your migraine still bothering you?"

"Just a little," Trina lies with a tight smile. "The Aspirin is a little slow to kick in."

Indecision wars within Emma's eyes for the longest minute before she finally sighs and makes a tentative motion with her hands towards Trina's head.

"If you don't mind, I could try something to help relieve the pain."

"Would you? I'm willing to try anything right now," Trina admits with a breathy laugh. To the men she says, "You two continue, we're going to sit down for a minute."

"Sure thing," Tom says, eyes still trained on the number eight ball, and Graham just gives them both a curious look before returning his attention to the game too. Joining Henry on the other side of the room, Emma and Trina settle down on bean-bag chairs of their own, Emma behind Trina while the latter reclines back and closes her eyes at the first touch of soft fingertips in her hair.

"Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable or painful," Emma warns softly, threading her fingers through soft, dark hair for a moment before she begins kneading at the other woman's scalp, fingertips rubbing firmly into the tender spots along her temples, behind her ears and down along her neck. Trina shivers before relaxing into it.

"Hm, that's nice. Oh, that's really nice. I didn't think this would work."

"Doesn't Tom massage your scalp when you get migraines?"

"It feels different when he does it." Leaning into the touch, Trina's eyes flutter shut and she sighs appreciatively. Emma's soft fingertips find the nerves and pressure points along her head and neck, expertly playing her like a familiar instrument. "This is so much better. You know exactly where to press— _oh._ "

She moans aloud as pleasure trickles through her body, toes curling and back arching a little as she presses into Emma's touch. The blonde freezes, eyes wide and throat dry, hands stiffly cradling Trina's now limp head as the other woman sinks back with a husky sigh of relief.

"Did— did that help?" Emma croaks out. Trina hums with delight.

"I don't know what you did, but the pain is almost completely gone. Would you mind—?"

She makes a motion towards her head and Emma quickly picks up where she left off, massaging the brunette's head with firm, gentle motions, warm fingers kneading into the muscle of her neck and sliding upwards, behind her ears, circling back up towards her temple. The vein in Trina's forehead has disappeared again and she lays heavily reclined in her bean-bag chair, almost melting into her seat with lips curved into a smile and oh so slightly parted.

A tongue darts out to lick at dry lips and Emma's eyes lock onto the motion, watching the way that pink tongue retreats between parted lips, teeth coming down ever so gently on the lower lip to withhold another sigh of pleasure.

"Good?" Emma husks.

"Mmm," Trina hums, the sound vibrating from within her chest like a purr.

"Do we all get a turn?" Tom teases, padding over with the pool cue in hand. Emma snatches her hands away and Trina jerks back up into a sitting position, shooting a glare at Graham as if it were his fault for not keeping Tom busy.

"Just helping her with her migraine," Emma says with an awkward smile, and Tom laughs and hands her the pool cue as Trina attempts to tame her mussed hair.

"Your turn, Chief. Graham is terrible at this."

"I just need practice," Graham complains, leaning down to scoop Henry up into his arms and toss the laughing child over his shoulder. Emma huffs and returns to the table, lining up her next shot while the others gather around to watch. She can feel Trina's eyes burning into her, moreso when she bends over the table to take aim, and when she finally makes her move, she ends up clipping the ball and sending three of them scattering in the wrong directions.

"Damn," she groans, stepping back so that Tom can take his turn with mirth in his eyes. She'd been doing pretty well earlier, but now she's just lined up the balls perfectly for him to sink, and he does so with the glee of a man finally winning the game.

"Sorry," Trina whispers next to her, dark eyes alight with amusement, and Emma doesn't ask what she's apologizing for, just clears her throat and proceeds to sink every shot in perfect succession, much to Tom's chagrin.

 

"Thanks for coming!" Tom's presence is warm and friendly, and Emma manages to return his friendly hug without cringing, though the memory of that fateful night in which he'd had his arms around her and Trina suggestively still make her grimace when she thinks of it. He and Graham engage in a back-slapping hug while Trina steps into her side to encircle her waist, squeezing her briefly and bumping their temples together. Henry stands at their feet and hugs their knees, and it's moments like these that make Trina's head swim with wonder and Emma's chest lurch with sorrow.

"Thanks for having us over," Emma says through a weary smile. "Henry had a lot of fun too. What do you say, kid?"

"Thank you, Auntie Ina," Henry recites politely, head tilted back to look up at them with a toothy grin, his chin pressed to their thighs and his arms tightly around their knees.

"You're welcome, Henry. You and your Mama are always welcome here." Trina brushes a hand through his mop of dark hair and glances up at Tom, one eyebrow arched. His smile is a little less easy but he smiles nonetheless, bobbing his head down at the boy.

"Yup. Come over any time, kiddo. We'll play in the pool next time."

Satisfied, Trina gets down to one knee to properly hug Henry goodbye, receiving another sloppy kiss to the cheek and a whispered "goodnight, Mommy," against her ear. How a child his age has managed to be so quiet and sneaky is beyond her, but she relishes the warmth settling deep in her chest at his words and presses a kiss into his messy hair before standing again. Tom watches them closely, but he has a soft look on his face that she can't quite decipher.

With their goodbyes exchanged, the trio head back across the street to the Swan house, Trina remaining in the doorway to watch them go. As the days go by, she can feel her heart leaving with Emma and Henry more and more every time they walk away from her, and as soon as she shuts the front door, her first destination is the wine rack.

"That went pretty well, I think," Tom offers, settling into a high stool at the kitchen island while his wife refills her glass with dark red. "They're good folk."

"Of course they are." Trina takes a long sip and then fiddles with the stem of her glass. "I told you you had nothing to worry about."

He nods, looking contemplative and staring absently out the floor to ceiling windows at the pool in the yard, now gleaming blue and reflecting the moonlight. Trina follows his gaze for a moment before watching him with a sense of discomfort settling in her gut.

"You okay, Tom?"

"Mm. Just thinking." His fingers tap at the marble countertop, wedding band glinting from his ring finger. The diamond on her own finger feels strangely heavy tonight.

"About?"

"You were really good with Henry," he says instead, finally looking at her with a small smile. "You look good with a kid in your arms."

She can't say why she tenses, but she does. Like he's about to say something that she once yearned to hear, but now... now she's not so sure.

"What's going through your mind?" she asks instead, wearily. He's usually a very straightforward man - it's what she loves about him. This hedging of his is making her nervous. To add to her discomfort, he laces his fingers together on the table and shifts in his seat, eyes down and lips pursed as if contemplating what to say next. "Tom?"

"I thought maybe you'd like to discuss having a baby."

Her heart stutters and drops down into her stomach like lead. "What?"

When he lifts his head, his smile is soft and lopsided, reminding her of the gangly young pilot she'd first met, handsome and charming in a boyish, awkward way. "I've been thinking hard about what you said, and you're right, we're not young anymore. We're in a good place in life, well off and settled here, and it really is time to start our family, isn't it?"

She blinks at him, mouth agape and hands frozen on her wine glass. Her brows furrow and she can't help but shake her head somewhat incredulously at him.

"That's it? You're suddenly ready to— to start a family now?"

"Hey, it's been weeks since then," he points out, thinking back on the night she'd shouted at him for not giving her a baby. The night he'd contemplated their wild lifestyle and mourned the very idea of giving it up. "I've thought about it long and hard. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Well, of course—"

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"No!"

"Then what's the problem?" He furrows his brows at her with genuine confusion. Trina abandons her wine glass on the counter to turn away and pace the short length of the kitchen, arms curling around her midsection.

"Did you think through everything? It's not like getting a pet, Tom. Nine months of pregnancy and hormones and body pains, and even if we adopt, it's still years of taking care of a baby, cleaning up after it and spending every hour of the day raising it and teaching it and— god, the sex, Tom. It will be just you and me, if we even have the energy for it. We can't be with other people anymore. We can't try to juggle _that_ and raising our own child at the same time, I won't have them growing up wondering why we aren't like _normal_ parents—"

"Hey, hey," he interrupts, standing up to catch her by her elbows and reel her in before she rants for much longer. "Of course I thought about all that, Trina. I wouldn't bring this up if I hadn't. What's gotten into you? I'm trying here."

She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing deeply to calm herself as his arms gently circle her and pull her into a reassuring hug. The anxiety brewing within her won't go away. Mentally, she knows this is what she wants, what she's wanted for years. She should be overjoyed that he's finally on the same page and willing to start a family. She should be _happy._

Her heart doesn't seem to feel the same way. Not anymore.

"I just want what makes you happy," Tom says softly, a hand caressing her cheek and brushing a tendril of dark hair back behind her ear. "I'm not trying to pressure you into a decision. If you want this, then it's what we'll do, okay?"

She breathes in again, deeply, and opens her eyes to smile weakly at him. "Okay."

His lips curve into a bright smile and he leans down to kiss her gently. "Is that still what you want? To have a baby?"

His mouth is warm against hers, moustache tickling at her upper lip and his eyes so earnest, so willing to appease her, and there's something guilty and bitter at the back of her throat when she forces her smile to widen as she winds her arms around his broad shoulders.

"Yes."

 

When Emma finds her, she's curled up gracelessly on a park bench and very, very drunk.

"Trina?" the blonde calls out in confusion, her breath hanging briefly in the air. She wears a dark brown evening coat with her police badge pinned to the chest and her hair is tucked beneath a gray beanie. Autumn is quickly falling upon them and though the days are still warm and sunny, the nights are turning cold.

"Emma," Trina greets quietly with a self-deprecating smile, voice hoarse. Her cheeks are dry but her eyes are red, and she makes a half-hearted attempt to hide the empty wine bottle sitting on the bench next to her, managing only to knock it over and onto the grass.

"You know drinking in public is illegal, right?" Emma teases softly, lowering herself down next to the brunette. Concern is heavy in her eyes but she retains a polite distance between them and only sets a hand on Trina's shoulder.

"Guess you'd better arrest me then, Chief Swan," Trina suggests, her voice slurring slightly. "You should know that handcuffs and bondage are a kink of mine."

The diversion attempt is sloppy at best and Emma ignores it, refusing to let her mind conjure up that particular fantasy. This is her friend, not her wife, and she fiddles with the matching rings on her finger to remind herself of that fact.

"Want to tell me what's led you to downing an entire bottle of wine?"

"Not really," Trina admits with a shaky laugh.

"Is there anyone else you could talk to about this? I don't want to leave you here alone."

Trina gives a long-suffering sigh at that. "Do I have to talk? Can't we just forget this ever happened?"

"Nope. You're breaking the law here, and I'm just asking for an explanation. Least you could do is indulge me." Emma gives her a wry smile, shaking her shoulder lightly when Trina's head bobs with the telltale signs of sleepiness. "You've always been a lightweight, huh?"

"I'm not a lightweight," Trina argues, lower lip jutting out in a childish pout. Emma chuckles, shaking her head.

"Of course not. Now come on, tell me what's wrong."

Trina tips her head back with another sigh, the taste of wine thick and bitter on her tongue as she eyes the stars overhead, blinking in and out of existence behind thin, drifting clouds. Her cheeks feel somewhat chapped from the cold and she can feel her insides starting to shiver. She hasn't dressed warm enough for this night.

"Tom wants to have a baby with me," she blurts out, her mind catching up to her mouth a second later and instantly regretting it. She can feel Emma stiffen next to her and squeezes her eyes shut with regret. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" Emma's voice is tight, yet forcibly happy. She stares at the conflicted look on Trina's face and can feel her own heart - only recently patched together with tape and superglue - shattering back into tiny pieces within her chest. She doesn't quite remember how to breathe, but she manages to force out words anyway. "I'm happy for you. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Trina had mentioned her desire to be a mother to Emma only once, briefly. It makes her chest ache to think that Emma remembers such a vague admission.

"Yes..."

"So then what's the problem?"

That question again. Hell if she knows. Trina purses her lips and opens her eyes again to find them wet and blurry. "I don't know."

"Sure you do," Emma says softly, pretending she doesn't notice the wetness in Trina's eyes. "There's a difference between not knowing something, and not wanting to admit it. You wouldn't be drinking if you didn't know."

"But I don't," Trina insists, sitting up heavily even as the alcohol tries to weigh down her body with drowsiness. She turns to face Emma more fully, leaning against the backing of the bench for support. "He's finally giving me everything I ever wanted. A home and a good life and a baby to complete my family. I should be _happy._ I'm... I'm _happy._ "

There's a kind of panic in Emma's eyes now, like she's coming to an alarming realization that's spiralling quickly out of control, yet somehow she manages to keep it contained, her lips pressed tightly together and her brows furrowed.

"Trina, that's a _good_ thing. This... it's everything you wanted. You two love each other and you're finally ready to have a family. You shouldn't be afraid—"

"I'm not afraid!" Her voice is higher, louder than intended, and both women wince as it seems to echo across a dark, empty park. Emma's green eyes are dark, like glittering jewels in the night, and she's leaning in protectively with this boundless _devotion_ that Trina doesn't know what to _do_ with and— "I'm... I'm not afraid. It's not that."

Those green eyes stare openly at her, concerned, comforting. "Then what is it?"

"You," Trina whispers hoarsely, and then she's lurching forward, mouth on Emma's and arms thrown around her neck to pull her closer, closer—

Emma moans, succumbing like a moth to a flame, heart hammering in her chest and blood pounding in her ears as she melts into the older woman's arms and allows Trina's tongue instant access. Her scent is the same - dark, rich, spicy - and she tastes similar, too, red lips tinged with a cherry flavor and tongue sweet yet bitter, tasting of wine and—

Emma turns her head away with a sharp intake of breath, head swimming as Trina's lips latch onto her neck instead, kissing and nipping and licking and sending every ounce of blood in her body pooling into her lower belly like a freshly lit fire.

"Trina— Trina, stop," she rasps, not quite pushing her away but holding her tightly in an attempt to limit her movement. "Trina, please."

"I need you, Emma," Trina says hoarsely, and it takes all of Emma's willpower not to give in, not to let this woman with her wife's face and voice take her right then and there on a park bench. The fire has been stoked within her but she resists nonetheless. "Please, I need you."

"You're drunk," Emma murmurs, and it's soft and apologetic instead of accusing, but Trina leans back enough for her to see the hurt look on her face anyway.

"I'm—"

"-drunk and upset and looking for comfort," Emma insists, her smile pained even as she gently pushes the mussed hair back from Trina's face. "Let me take you home. You'll feel better tomorrow, and then maybe you can talk to Tom—"

"I can't," Trina chokes out, tears coming to her eyes unbidden now. "I can't— I don't _know_ how to tell him that I don't want a child with him. I love him but I _don't want a child with him._ "

"That's something you have to talk to him about," Emma soothes. "It's okay if you've changed your mind. It's not the end of the world. You two can work it out."

"I didn't—" Her voice catches on a sob. "I didn't change my mind." Trina's dark eyes squeeze shut again and a look of despair and guilt overtakes her features as tears continue to trickle down her cheeks. "I want a child but I don't want it with him."

"That's—"

"I want it with you."

A choked sound escapes Emma, like a strangled little sob that almost claws its way out. The shattered remains of her heart are cutting into her like razor blades, an aching pain radiating from her chest, and she shakes her head and cries silent tears even as Trina opens her eyes to look at her with a broken kind of apology written all over her face.

"You're drunk and confused," Emma says again, voice hollow even to her own ears. "You don't want me, Trina. You love Tom, remember?"

"I love you," Trina croaks. Emma shakes her head slowly, back and forth.

"You barely even know me."

"I know you. I know you in my dreams. We knew each other in a different life, didn't we?"

Green eyes flutter shut. Her throat bobs with a thick swallow. When Emma reopens her eyes, her lips are curving into a sorrowful smile and her voice is resigned.

"Come on, Trina. I'll take you home. You need to sleep this off."

Despite the brunette's resistance, Emma manages to wrangle her into the police cruiser and drive the short ten minutes back towards the Decker household. The porch lights are on and she can see a silhouette pacing in front of the living room window, signalling Tom's worry.

"Look, you've worried Tom," she says, softly scolding, an arm around Trina's waist as she leads her unsteadily up the driveway.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Trina whispers hoarsely, her gaze piercing, if a little glazed.

"You're drunk." Emma meets her gaze for only a moment before reluctantly rapping on the front door. There's an immediate scuffle from within the house as Tom hurries to answer them. "You'll forget about all of this in the morning."

"I don't want to forget," Trina breathes out, tears dripping down her cheeks once more. She fears the answer - knows Emma will say "I do" like last time - but neither have a chance to say anything else as the door swings open to reveal Tom's worried face on the other side.

"Trina! Emma? What's going on?"

Trina ducks her face and tries to swipe at her tears while Emma flashes an apologetic smile, her walls going right back up and hiding away the pain like dust swept under a rug.

"Found her at the park like this, I'm sorry to say that she was upset and must have had a little too much to drink." She hands the brunette over and watches as Trina sags weakly into Tom's arms, tear-stained face hidden against his polo shirt.

"Christ. I'm sorry, Chief. I don't know what's gotten into her." Tom frowns down at the top of Trina's head, both worried and disappointed, before nodding apologetically at Emma. "Thank you for bringing her home. I hope she didn't cause you too much trouble."

"Not at all. What are friends for?" Her smile is tight. Then, to Trina, "Get some sleep, huh? I hope you feel better in the morning."

Dark eyes peer up at her, begging, _pleading_ \- and Emma just turns with a half-hearted wave of her hand and a grimace of a smile and walks away, the shattered pieces of her heart crumbling to dust within her chest as the door of the Decker house shuts behind her and the porch lights turn off, abandoning her to the dark silence of night.


	10. Chapter 10

****Emma avoids her like the plague. Tom is subdued and says very little. Grace does not bring Henry over very often anymore, likely at the request of Emma, and Henry looks equal parts frustrated and upset on the rare occasions that she sees him now.

All in all, she has royally fucked up, and she doesn't know how to fix any of it.

"I thought we agreed that Ruby and I are staying out of it," Belle says, concerned. Trina winds the phone cord around her finger with an anxious sigh.

"I know, but I just— I don't know! It's complicated, Belle. Tom is walking on eggshells around me and I don't have anyone else I can talk to."

She must sound pathetic enough because Belle relents moments later, promising she'll be right over. She arrives within the hour, Ruby dropping her off and waving halfheartedly at Trina from the car before driving off. The two women settle down in the den, Belle nursing a glass of wine while Trina sticks to water. She can't quite bring herself to drink wine now, not since finishing off an entire bottle and then throwing it up that fateful night after crying over Emma's rejection. She had been drunk enough that she still doesn't quite remember all that she might have said during that time, afraid she may have blurted out something she shouldn't have... which could very well explain why Tom has barely spoken to her and all but pretended that night never happened.

"Where's Tom?" Belle asks as if reading her mind. Trina sighs and shakes her head, staring down dejectedly into her cup.

"Working. He took a few extra Tokyo shifts."

Belle hums and tucks her legs in underneath her. "Okay then. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything that happened."

And she does— mostly. She leaves out the dreams and her own growing belief that Henry is hers and that she knows Emma from a previous life because the last thing she needs is Belle committing her to a psych ward, but she confesses the rest. Her emotional connection with Emma, her adoration for Henry, the fact that the life she once wanted with Tom is something she wants with someone else now. Belle listens with a furrow between her brows, saying nothing at all until Trina is finally done, falling silent and watching her friend with trepidation.

"How long have you felt this way?" she asks after minutes of silence, taking another slow sip of wine. Trina downs the rest of her water to soothe a dry, tight throat.

"Months ago, ever since that party where she and I..." She trails off, not wanting to revisit that memory. "Tom started coming around to the idea of us being monogamous and having kids, and that's when I realized I didn't want that anymore. Not... not with him."

Trina looks down, guilt stirring within her chest again. It feels wrong of her, to have asked and pleaded and pressured Tom for a family for so long, and now that he's finally agreed... she's the one who's changed her mind. She's the one who craves a new life with someone else, completely disregarding the vows she'd made to her husband all those years ago.

So much for _'to love and to hold, till death do us part.'_

"I'm a horrible person," she whispers, voice cracking as tears sting her eyes. Belle reaches across the couch immediately to grab her wrist in a comforting manner.

"Trina, no," she insists, "You've just... you've changed, and maybe you and Tom aren't the best match anymore, but that doesn't make you a bad person. You didn't cheat on him. You've done nothing wrong."

"Wanting to start a family with someone _other_ than my own husband isn't wrong?" Trina barks out a bitter laugh, swiping at wet eyes with a sniff. "I think Tom would disagree with you."

"He would be understandably upset." Belle frowns, gently stroking her thumb along Trina's wrist until the older brunette slowly relaxes from her tense position. "But that's life, Treen. Sometimes people fall out of love and go their separate ways."

"I haven't—" Trina bites down on her lip, her dark eyes conflicted, hesitant to admit her thoughts. "I... haven't fallen out of love with him. I still love Tom. I love him. He's my best friend."

Belle's brows knit together, her mouth tightly pursed. "Trina..."

"Am I supposed to just let go of the last decade of our life together?" Brown eyes turn pleading, begging for... something. Confirmation. Rejection. A lecture, even. Anything to take some of the responsibility off of herself, unfair as that may be.

"You have to make a choice. I'm not going to tell you what to do." Belle shakes her head, looking disappointed in her. "It's Tom or Emma. Either way, someone will be hurt, and those are feelings you'll all have to deal with like adults."

Setting her empty glass on the coffee table, Trina buries her face in her hands, groaning softly and rubbing the heels of her palms into her tired eyes.

"I'm being selfish."

"Yup," Belle agrees, smiling wryly when Trina sighs in frustration. "Can I ask you something?" When Trina makes a vague 'go ahead' gesture, Belle continues. "What is it about Emma that could make you risk losing your husband— your best friend?"

Trina looks up then, eyes wide with surprise. Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, floundering for some sort of excuse, but eventually the truth wins out and she slumps a little in her seat, expression softening into something that Belle's never seen before. Something decidedly not-Trina, and yet as natural as breathing.

"She makes me feel whole," Trina murmurs, warmth in her eyes. "Like a part of myself I never knew was missing until I met her and she filled that void in my heart. I... I don't think I could survive losing her now that I've found her."

"Well then," Belle says, and she promptly downs the remainder of her wine with a flourish and an apologetic smile. "I think you have your answer."

 

Tom doesn't speak to her.

Not when the first thing she blurts out when he walks through the door is that she needs some time apart, and certainly not when she nervously motions to the manilla envelope on the kitchen countertop. He doesn't bother opening it; it's obvious what's inside. He retreats into their bedroom, dragging his work suitcase and uniform behind him, and Trina doesn't follow.

An hour later, he comes back out, having changed into a cotton tank top and a pair of comfortable silk pants he favours as pajamas. Trina freezes in place where she sits at the kitchen island and waits for him to approach, eyes downcast and hands clutching at the counter. He sits across from her, clearing his throat, one hand rubbing nervously at his moustache as he stares at the envelope as if afraid it might bite him.

"Was it something I did?" is the first thing he asks, which sends Trina's heart plummeting down into her stomach.

"No, Tom. No. It's not you."

"Then why?" He looks at her, eyes wide and pleading, uncomprehending of what could have possibly gone so wrong in such a short time. It had taken him a few weeks to get onboard with the idea of starting a family after their argument, sure, but that was a reasonable amount of time, wasn't it? Hadn't she agreed that it was still what she wanted last week? Before she'd gone and gotten wasted in what was likely the most conflicting night of either of their lives?

"I..." Trina swallows hard, mulling Belle's words in her head over and over again, trying to convey the same to her husband. "I've changed, Tom. We both have. I just don't think we're at the same place anymore."

"Same—" He rubs a hand over his face, breathing out harshly. "You wanted a family, didn't you? I'm trying to give that to you. I told you I was ready for the same. How can we not be in the same place anymore? Did you change your mind?"

She wants to say yes, but the word dies before it can even escape her lips. She can't lie to him. Not when she still loves him, not when he's still her best friend, even if it's not enough to keep them together—

"No," she whispers, unable to muster any more strength behind her words. "Tom, I'm so sorry. I just... I can't. Not... with you. I love you, I will always love you, but I can't do this anymore."

He stares through her, sees the unsaid words even if she can't bring herself to voice them, and the pain and betrayal in his eyes is evident despite the steadying breath he takes.

"It's Emma, isn't it?" he says, quiet.

Trina's eyes close, lips twisting with sorrow, unable to face him. "I'm sorry."

They sit like that in silence for a long time, neither saying a word. Wetness seeps from Trina's closed eyes and Tom switches between pressing a palm to his mouth and running his hands helplessly through his hair. It's the most uncomfortable and disjointed they have ever been with each other, and neither knows how to put an end to it. Eventually, though, Tom is the one to be the bigger person.

"So what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice quiet, soft. Defeated. His shoulders are hunched and he looks lost, almost, looking anywhere but at her.

"I don't know." She's been saying that too much lately and already hates herself for it. "I'm so—"

"Don't apologize," he interrupts, frowning. "Don't."

Swallowing down yet another apology, Trina wraps her arms around her midsection and hunches her shoulders further. "I'll pack up my things tonight. Ruby's grandmother runs that little B&B down on Elm. I can probably—"

"Trina, I'm not chasing you out of your own house," he sighs, finally meeting her eyes with his own somber ones. "You put as much work into this as I did. Let me take a look at our finances. We'll talk to a lawyer and figure something out in the... the divorce."

They both wince. It's the first time that word has been outright spoken and neither look comfortable with it. Tom just nods his head, eyes averted, and turns to retreat, shuffling down the hall back towards the bedroom with his shoulders slumped.

"Tom..."

He hesitates, turning halfway to glance at her. He looks so small for a moment, slouched and sad, nothing like the charming, outgoing pilot she'd once fawned over. Her heart clenches painfully in her chest, sorry to have done this to him. To have broken his heart over something none of them had any control over. She wishes she could turn back time, kiss him and tell him it's all okay, make love long into the night the way they used to.

Another part of her soul wishes to be reunited with its other half more, and that is the force she cannot fight against.

"I don't deserve you," she says softly, and it's the truth. He's a good man. He deserved better than to be a middleman to someone who has already been claimed in a previous life.

"You're still my best friend," he whispers, and then he disappears into the bedroom, leaving her alone at the kitchen island.

 

Emma isn't home when Trina knocks on her door. She knows this, because she'd specifically watched from her window when the blonde left her house that morning, driving to work in that shiny yellow Volkswagen of hers, leaving Graham at home to babysit Henry for the day. So when the door swings open and Graham nearly chokes on his own saliva at the sight of her, she merely gives him a stiff, pursed smile.

"Hello, Graham. Can I come in?"

"Um..." He looks worried, eyes shifting back and forth as he makes sure to block the door with his body. "Emma isn't here right now."

"I know. I wanted to speak with you."

He looks mildly alarmed at that, but his proverbial hackles rise shortly thereafter. "I don't think that's a good idea..."

Because Henry's in the house. She cannot explain her sudden urge to curl her lip and sneer at him, but tamps down on the unruly response and instead tries to give him a comforting smile.

"Graham, please. It's very important."

He stands there for a long moment, conflicted and unsure, before finally backing away from the door to let her inside. A little gasp and a thundering of tiny footsteps heralds Henry moments before he collides against her legs, nearly knocking Trina over in his haste.

"Henry," she breathes out, heart warming as she reaches down to run her fingers through his wild dark curls.

"I missed you," he says in a whine, releasing her legs and holding up his arms. She happily bends to scoop him up, hugging the child to her chest with a sigh of relief. She'd missed him dearly, deprived of his soulful brown eyes so much like her own, and those big dimples in his cheeks and chin that look just like Emma's. He snuggles himself in under her chin contentedly and Trina momentarily forgets that Graham is standing right there.

"Sorry, he's a little clingy lately," he says, taking a tentative step forward and reaching out. "Here, I'll—"

"No," Trina snaps, and it's the sudden fire in her eyes, the way she turns away with Henry held protectively in her arms, her teeth bared in a snarl, that has all the color draining from Graham's face.

"Trina—"

"He's _my_ son," she growls, eyes flashing as Graham stumbles back a step. "Isn't he?"

He doesn't know why she's asking him. It's clear in her eyes that she _knows_ , and he wishes dearly that Emma is here because he's about one more surprise away from a heart attack. "You... you remember?"

She pauses, clutching Henry to herself, the little boy clinging to her for dear life. She knows, of course—her dreams and Henry's insistence and all of the little things that just _add up_ —but it's still bizarre to hear Graham confirm it.

"I have dreams." She evens out her breathing, rubbing Henry's back in a soothing manner. It does none of them any good to be at a stand off in the middle of the foyer, so she jerks her head towards the living room and Graham nods, following her inside as they sit on opposite couches, Henry remaining firmly planted on his mother's lap. "Of my... other life, with Emma. In that strange fantasy world. They're memories, aren't they? They're real?"

Even Henry, who has grown up here and has only ever heard vague stories about his blonde mother's past, looks to Graham for confirmation. With both sets of brown eyes on him, the man is weak and relents.

"Yes," he says feebly, sinking down into the couch. "It's all true."

"Tell me how." When Graham looks confused, she clarifies, "Our past. In that other world. Tell me how I could have lived my entire life here in Illinois and yet also be... be the Regina from yours and Emma's world."

"Time works differently between worlds," he says, shaking his head. "Even we don't know the details. You—uh, Regina... Regina died back in the old world, so Emma took a portal to another world for a fresh start. Somehow, she ended up here and found you instead."

Trina sucks in a breath, head reeling at how bizarre his words sound. "And I'm... I'm..."

"A reincarnation?" Graham offers quietly. When she blinks at him, he shrugs. "That's what we think. You're remembering your old memories, aren't you?"

At that, she hesitates. "I... I _dream_ of them. Like I'm watching them through— through someone else's eyes. It's not like I'm just _gaining_ memories of someone I used to be. I'm still me... I'm still Trina Decker."

That's not the answer he wants to hear, evidently, if the anger in his eyes is any indication.

"Why did you come here, then?" he questions, guarded now. Regina bristles.

"What the hell does that mean? I know the truth now. Why wouldn't I come and talk to you two about it?"

Graham's eyes flicker between her and Henry, and she hugs her son a little tighter, protective, her heart clenching at the way he curls into her.

"You won't say that you're Regina but you're still here for... for Henry?"

"He's my son," Trina says lowly, warning.

"And Emma?" His eyes narrow, something angry and defensive rearing up in the way he straightens and glares at her. "How do you think she's going to feel when she knows that you know? That you want to be Henry's mother now while still living your _Trina Decker_ life?"

" _Excuse me?"_

He looks more like the Huntsman in her dreams than the Graham she knows, his teeth white against tanned skin and his eyes dangerously slitted, hands fisted tightly on his lap, the knuckles nearly white.

"Go to your room, Henry," he growls, low and demanding. When Henry hesitates, wide eyes lifting up to Trina, he snaps, "Now!"

Eyes wide with fear, Henry scrambles from Trina's lap and retreats to his bedroom, nearly in tears. Graham has never spoken to him so harshly before, and Trina seems to sense the same thing, her eyes narrowing in outrage. She doesn't have the chance to snap at Graham, however, because he's already turning on her with all the protective fury of an older brother.

"Do you know how much pain you've caused her just by existing in this world? The face and voice of her wife, married to someone else. It was hard enough for her to pretend none of that existed, but now you— you just want to stroll in, knowing some of Regina's memories, just enough to want to be in Henry's life, but not to _be_ Regina. You'll still be Trina Decker, living across the street with your husband, knowing the truth about all of us like some sick inside joke. Do you know how much that will kill her?"

Trina stares, wide-eyed and shocked by his outburst. Graham has only ever been meek around her all this time, always acting like a submissive animal in her presence. Now that she's outright differentiated herself from Regina, he doesn't look at her with the same mixture of fear and respect. Now it's just distrust and anger.

"I'm not here to hurt her," she says, quiet and cautious. His nostrils flare and she quickly holds up a hand. "I asked Tom for a divorce."

At that, his shoulders drop and his eyes widen. "You— what?"

"I asked him for a divorce." Trina exhales, expression turning pained. "I love him, but there's a part of me that wants— _needs_ —Emma more. And I know she deserves better than to be the 'other woman' so... I ended things with Tom."

Graham stares hard at her for a long moment, blue eyes dark and conflicted. His eyes flicker towards the window a few times, towards the Decker house across the street, feeling sorry for his friend, but a bigger part of him is internally panicking at what this will mean for Emma and the fragile life she's struggled to build here.

"You need Emma?" he asks eventually, voice hoarse. Trina swallows hard.

"She makes me feel... right. Like I never knew there was a part of myself missing until she came into my life."

Graham's lip twitches into a tighter grimace. "Is that how you really feel or is that just what you think Regina would feel?"

"What the hell is your problem?" She slaps her hands down against the couch before she can stop herself. "I thought you agreed that I was a— a reincarnation! Do you just expect me to instantly be _Regina_ now? I'm still me! And _I_ feel that way about Emma. _Me._ Trina."

"That's not good enough."

"That's not _fair_ —"

"You want to know what's not fair? Reuniting with your wife who's not _really_ your wife, who doesn't act the same and has all this history with other people and none of that history with _her._ You think she'll be happy with that? You think she won't ache for Regina every time she's with you? That's what you want to do to her?"

He's not wrong. Trina can't argue that he is because _fuck_ , it really isn't fair. But it's not like she can _choose_ to suddenly turn into Regina, nor can she change the fact that—regardless if it's because of the Regina inside of her or not—she's fallen head over heels for Emma. Would it not also be wrong of her to hide the way she feels? To deprive her past incarnation of another chance with her beloved?

"It's not up to you," she says instead, not knowing how else she can continue arguing with him, not when she's at the mercy of her own feelings while Graham bristles in defence of his little sister.

"You're selfish," he spits, lips curled in disdain. Trina winces, hating that he's called her out on the one thing she'd called herself just a few days ago during her talk with Belle.

Selfish. For following her heart no matter who gets hurt in the process.

"I won't apologize for loving her," she says lowly, standing and striding for the foyer. He jumps up from his seat but doesn't follow, just glares at her back as she opens the front door.

"I knew from the moment I first met you that you would bring her nothing but heartbreak," he says, and from the far-away tone in his voice, she knows he's not talking about when they first met at Emma's housewarming party.

The door slams shut behind her.

 

"Okay, seriously, what the fuck is up with you?"

Emma's head snaps up, nearly clocking Lily in the nose where the brunette had been leaning over her just a moment before. With her hands held up in a placating gesture, Lily backs off and the blonde gives an apologetic smile.

"Shit. Sorry, Page."

"I've been talking to you for a solid minute and you only just now noticed me."

"Really, sorry. What were you saying?"

"I said you've been distracted all week and moping around when you think we're not looking. We're your _team,_ Chief. And your friends. You know you can talk to us, right?"

"I know." Emma tries to look amused but really only manages an awkward grimace. "I'm fine, honest. Just tired lately."

"Today is not a good day to forget about my bullshit detector." Lily taps at her own temple with a finger before dropping down into the chair on the other side of Emma's desk. "Come on. Give me something. It's not Decker, is it? I thought you two had figured things out. Or are you fighting with that hunky brother of yours?"

"First of all; eww." Emma makes a face and squints her eyes at her deputy. "We're coming back to that later... Second, why do you always think it's Trina?"

"Cause that woman is trouble and you're neck deep in it."

Emma can't even bring herself to argue the fact.

"Besides, she hasn't been around lately. And you two have been doing your weird 'friendship' thing for weeks."

Emma does open her mouth to argue that one, but Lily is once again right. Trina had been going above and beyond in her role as a friend, dropping by the station every so often with lunch for Emma or treats for the officers to share. The woman was evidently bored of being a housewife with nothing but a house to care for, even going so far as to improve her own baking skills with all the goodies she's been making. This past week she'd been suspiciously missing from the station after Emma had stonewalled her on Monday, the officers silently wondering what had happened while their Chief continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Are you complaining?" Emma finally settles on saying, leveling a deadpan look at her friend. Lily purses her lips and shrugs.

"She's been bringing snickerdoodles, okay? I don't _hate_ her."

Sighing, Emma nudges aside the paperwork she'd been staring at for the past half hour and leans back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. "I'm a homewrecker."

Lily's brows shoot up into her hairline. "Wait, what?"

"Her marriage with Tom. Ever since I got tangled up with them, they've been having troubles. Not to mention the whole debacle with Henry thinking she's his other mother..."

"You know, I always heard that if a marriage is meant to be, then it'll overcome anything." When Emma narrows her eyes at her, Lily holds up her hands in surrender. "I'm just saying, it can go two ways. They get over this and it makes them stronger, or they break up and find someone better suited to them. What's happened now, though? You two were doing so good at the friends thing."

Emma hesitates, glancing down at her hands as she anxiously knits her fingers together. It wouldn't be fair to Trina if she told someone else, regardless of whether or not she wants advice from a friend. After a moment, she shakes her head. "I can't say. Sorry, Page."

"Don't sweat it." Lily glances to the side, makes a face, and quickly stands. "Speak of the devil... I'll leave you to it."

She makes a hasty retreat, leaving the door wide open for Trina Decker herself to slip into the Chief's office, an unreadable expression on her face. Emma straightens in her seat, tension winding its way up along her spine.

"Trina," she says, voice high and tight with anxiety.

_We knew each other in another life, didn't we?_

The words echo through her mind, taunting. She swallows down the lump in her throat and laces her hands together on her desk, wondering when her palms had become so sweaty.

"Can I..." She clears her throat, trying for a look of professionalism. "Can I help you with something?"

"I need to speak with you, actually." Trina shuts the door behind her, then after giving the office a cursory look, she begins pulling on the blinds to cover up the windows looking out into the bullpen. Emma stiffens in her seat, nearly breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Trina, what are you—"

"It's important, Emma. _Please._ "

Emma snaps her jaw shut, saying nothing more as Trina hides them away from the rest of the station. With the windows fully covered, the brunette walks around the desk and stops in front of Emma, their knees nearly bumping.

"I asked Tom for a divorce," is the first thing she says.

Which sends Emma into a near panic attack.

"You— you what?" Emma gasps, jerking back in her seat with a look of fear and pain etched onto her face, because this _wasn't supposed to happen._ Trina was supposed to live her life, happy and unburdened, not _divorcing her husband_ and losing everything she's worked so hard for. This... this wasn't...

"Emma? Emma!"

Emma blinks, sucking in air when she realizes she's not breathing. Trina's hands are grasping her face, her body leaning over Emma's with concern, nearly sitting on Emma's lap since the blonde is slumped in her chair.

"No," she cries softly, tears blurring her vision even as Trina's thumbs gently stroke at her cheekbones in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. "No, _no, no!_ This wasn't— You weren't supposed to— Oh, god—"

"Shh, Emma, breathe, it's okay." Trina pulls her close, lips touching her forehead, her temple, her hair, and Emma isn't strong enough to resist her, head burrowing down under Trina's chin as the brunette soothes her, fingers combing through long blonde curls. "Why are you crying?"

"I've ruined everything," Emma rasps, clinging to the soft fabric of Trina's shirt as it soaks up her tears. "I ruined your marriage. I ruined your life here. You were _happy_ and I— I'm so _sorry—_ "

"Don't you dare apologize." Trina's fingers find her chin and tilt her head up, watery green eyes meeting smoldering russet ones. "Don't you dare apologize for being in my life. Whatever happened since then was my choice. It _is_ my choice. And I choose you, Emma White-Mills."

Green eyes grow wide, panicked but also... hopeful. Her voice comes out breathless.

"I never told you—"

"I know." Trina's fingers release her chin, trailing up her cheek to brush blonde curls back behind her head. "I remembered."

Emma gives a choked little sound, tears flooding her eyes again as gentle fingers caress her cheekbone. Her entire body is tight with apprehension, heart clenching in wait, standing on the precipice of joy and agony, just a single push away from falling to either side.

"You— you really—?"

"Not everything," Trina admits. "But enough... Enough to know that I can't be with Tom when my wife and son are right here."

Emma kisses her then, hard and desperate, and it's everything Trina has hoped for and dreamed of for so long ever since their first—and only—night together those few months ago. Months of maintaining a friendship that always teetered on the edge of something more, months of pretending to be simply friendly neighbors, months of longing gazes and lingering touches—

A moan. A whimper. It's hard to tell who it came from, not when they're fumbling together, Trina straddling Emma's lap and tangling her fingers in her hair and Emma running her hands up Trina's back beneath her shirt, missing the feel of her soft, warm skin.

"Emma," Trina moans, twitching happily in her grasp at the feel of Emma's fingers grazing the sensitive flesh of her sides. She tilts her head back, eyes falling shut as soft lips nibble their way down her throat.

"I've missed you," Emma rasps, pressing a reverent kiss to the hollow of Trina's throat. "I've missed you so much, Regina."

And it's that name, _Regina_ , whispered against her skin that has Trina wincing, pulling back as guilt floods her belly, the same way that hurt floods Emma's bright eyes.

"Emma," she whispers, apologetic, and though the blonde doesn't pull away at her gentle touch, her expression has grown cautious. "I remember a lot of my... past life. But I'm still... I know I used to be Regina, but I'm Trina now. I'm still Trina."

"You... _used_ to be... Regina," Emma repeats slowly, blankly. Trina can sense her growing distant and clings on even tighter, desperate to keep her close.

"Emma, we're the same person. It's still me. I feel her love for you. _I_ love you."

Those beautiful green eyes stare into her, conflicted, so very conflicted. Trina cradles her face and kisses her again, soft and chaste, feeling the way Emma melts into her.

"Give me a chance," she murmurs. "Give me time. It'll come back to me. _Please."_

And she knows, from the way green eyes soften to the way Emma curls into her, that she still has a chance. She can't screw it up this time. She needs Emma and Henry. She needs her wife and son.

"We need to do this right," Emma says roughly, leaning back to wipe the wetness away from her eyes. Trina nods along, ready to do whatever it is the blonde wants. "You're still married right now. You and Tom need to... to get things sorted out. And I need to talk to Henry and... We can't rush into things. You're... adjusting. And we can't tell anyone else about our past life, so we have to do this properly, take it slow and date and—"

She stops at the touch of a finger to her lips, blinking up at Trina as the brunette smiles softly. "Whatever you want is what we'll do, Emma. Deep breath, okay? We'll do this right, I promise."

Emma nods, her smile small and hesitant. Trina lowers her hand and gently kisses her again, unable to resist.

"We'll be alright, won't we?" she asks softly.

"Yeah." Emma stares into her eyes as if searching for something. After a moment, she softens under Trina's touch, eyes fluttering when the brunette's thumb strokes across the plane of her cheekbone. "We'll be alright... Trina."

The smile Trina gives her is blinding.

 

"Hey, babe." Ruby deposits a takeout coffee on Belle's desk, leaning down to kiss her girlfriend as Lily snatches the tray of remaining coffees from her hand to gleefully distribute.

"Heya. Thanks." Cradling the drink between her hands, Belle hums and breathes in deeply of the sweet-bitter concoction, eyes fluttering shut with delight. "Granny always makes the best mochas. Tell her I love her."

Humming, Ruby drops down into the chair next to her girlfriend's desk, throwing one leg over the other into what looks like an uncomfortable position, but the lanky brunette just sinks down against the chair with a content sigh.

"Is Trina still here?" She, like the rest of the station, has noticed the week-long absence of Emma's "platonic best friend", so they couldn't quite stop the urge to gossip when Trina had entered the Chief's office earlier that day and promptly covered all the windows. Belle shakes her head, smiling wryly.

"No, she left a while ago. But she looked quite happy."

"Oh?" Ruby quirks a brow. Belle had confessed about her and Trina's talk after that housewarming debacle a few months back, and then of her visit to the Decker household last weekend, but Ruby never expected much of it. Trina and Tom had been glued at the hip for the six years they'd known each other and she honestly didn't think that would end because of Emma's presence. Evidently, she'd thought wrong.

"She must have made her decision."

"And she chose Emma?" Ruby cranes her head around to look at the office, but the window shutters are still down.

"I think so. Emma's the only one who's made her smile like that in a long time."

Ruby sighs, scratching at her head. "Yeah... Poor Tom. But, I mean, if we all saw how obsessed Trina had been over Emma since the very beginning, Tom must've seen it coming from a million miles away."

"Pretty sure it doesn't make it any easier to swallow. But I _am_ glad that Trina and Emma are finally figuring things out." Belle smiles wryly and swats at Ruby's hand when her girlfriend tries to steal her drink, instead motioning with a head bob to where Mulan is exiting the women's locker room, already changed into civilian clothing. "Someone's looking dolled up and handsome."

"Who?" Ruby looks over and promptly whistles at the sight of Mulan trying to slip quietly from the bullpen. The woman is dressed to the nines in a feminine suit, trim black slacks highlighting her narrow waist and a deep satin green blouse peeking out from under a sleek coat. "Hey, Fa, my girlfriend thinks you're handsome!"

Mulan jumps like a startled cat and turns about as red as a tomato as she continues inching towards the exit. "Um, thank you. Good evening."

And then she's gone, bolting out the door before any other officer can heckle her about why she looks dressed for a date.

"She's dressed for a date," Belle chuckles.

"The important question is: with who?" Ruby snaps her fingers. "Betcha it's that little fox from when we were at 54."

"Who, Rory? Didn't she say she wasn't gay?"

"You said _you_ weren't gay before I got my claws in you," Ruby purrs, winking. "Or, well... my fingers."

Belle bursts out laughing and slaps her girlfriend on the chest in retribution.

"Where'd Mulan go?" Emma asks, finally appearing from within her office with a lovestruck look, clutching a disorganized stack of papers in her hands as if making a sad attempt at looking like she'd been working. Her hair is disheveled and there's a smudge of lipstick on her otherwise bare lips, and there's a snort of knowing laughter from Cassidy and Booth's desks that is immediately silenced when Belle glares at them.

"The real question, Chief, is where did Trina go?" Ruby teases, to which Emma blushes fiercely.

"Um, home...? I don't know. We just... had a chat. That's all." Clearing her throat, Emma dumps a few forms down onto Mulan's desk and then flees back into her office. Belle eyes her girlfriend with bemusement.

"I thought you were mad at Trina for a while there."

"Eh. Disappointed, more like." Ruby sucks on her teeth for a moment, thoughtful. "I hated that she was hurting Emma, bouncing around indecisively like that. But now, honestly? I'm kind of proud that she's finally made a choice. Someone was going to get hurt in the process eventually, and I am sorry for Tom, but Treen and Emma have this _thing_ and it just feels right to see them together, you know?"

Belle nods in agreement. "Like they were meant to be?"

"Yeah. And they finally got their heads out of their asses and found each other again. Kinda like you and me."

Belle chuckles, pulling her girlfriend closer by her lapels to kiss her chastely. "You're cheese, you know that?"

"The cheesiest," Ruby agrees, kissing her right back.


	11. Chapter 11

****"Do you know where my red tie ended up?"

"Which one? The striped one or the solid one?"

"Solid."

"Oh. There was a coffee stain on that. I washed it for you and hung it to dry on the rack."

"Ah. Thank you."

Tom's large hand pats her softly on the back as he passes her, his shirt untucked and his hair disheveled in his usual morning flounder to prepare for work. Trina reaches for his favourite thermos from the cupboard and fills it up with coffee and two spoonfuls of sugar, just the way he likes it, and sets it on the island next to his half-eaten bagel and briefcase.

Sometimes, when they're domestic and exchanging soft smiles, it's easy to forget that their life together is nearly at an end. To forget that they're getting a divorce.

A honk sounds from outside the house and Trina glances at the window, spying Jerry's green car outside.

"Tom, Jerry's here."

"Comin', I'm comin'," he says, struggling momentarily with his coat as he appears from the hallway. His tie is askew and she automatically reaches out to fix it, pulling his collar down over it and smoothing down the lapels of his coat. He pauses as she does, her hands flat on his chest, and after a moment he gives an awkward smile and gently pats her hands until she slides away again.

"Coffee," she says, as if to remind him that she has still done what she always does whenever he leaves for work. He leans towards her before jerking himself towards the island to grab his briefcase, as if almost forgetting that he doesn't kiss her goodbye anymore.

"Right. Thanks, Treen."

She nods, watches him stick the remainder of his bagel in his mouth and grab his briefcase and thermos before moving to the door. She pulls it open for him and he clamps his thermos under his arm so that he can grab his travel suitcase, carrying everything out the door in his goofy, haphazard way.

He's halfway down the path before he pauses, turning to glance back at her with a soft gaze.

"Have a safe flight," she says with an equally soft smile. He tips his head and hurries the rest of the way to the car, greeting his coworker with a grunt as he tosses his things in the back and gets in. Jerry waves a quick goodbye to Trina, his expression uncertain, before they drive off and leave Trina leaning in the doorway, quiet. It seems he's already heard of their impending divorce, Trina thinks with a sigh. The downside to living in a small town.

There's a little shriek of delight from across the street, drawing Trina's attention to the Swan household where Henry streaks across the yard in nothing but his underwear. Laughter bubbles up from her chest at the precious sight, and though she and Graham still have problems with each other, she can't help but be amused as she watches the man dive after the child with a disgruntled groan.

"Henry, get back here!" he sighs, clearly regretting his decision to open the front door to grab the morning paper. Henry had taken the chance to flee the house, evidently, gleeful as he skips across the yard in his near-nakedness. Shaking her head slightly, Trina starts off down her own yard and to the Swan household before Henry can spot her and try running across the street.

"Mommy!" he squeals, delighted. Trina hops up onto the curb and ducks down to catch him as he leaps at her, all pudgy limbs and cute rubber ducky underwear. He laughs into her shirt and she readjusts him in her arms, balancing his weight on her hip as he clings to her like a little monkey.

"Good morning, darling," she murmurs, pressing kisses into his hair and ear until he's giggling and squirming in her arms. Graham straightens, frowning slightly at her as he approaches.

"Trina," he greets stiffly.

"Huntsman," she says just as coolly in return. The old title has the man hunching down somewhat, his gaze dropping, reminded of the days when Regina would turn her nose up at him, all haughty and jealous, never quite comfortable with the rugged man who was considered a dear friend to Emma.

"Mommy, come play with me?" Henry asks sweetly, his lower lip already jutting out in a pleading pout. Trina smiles but shakes her head, kissing the tip of his nose in apology.

"Not yet, Henry. You remember what your Mama told you?"

He huffs but nods. "Gots ta wait. Grace gonna bring me over next week?"

"Right you are, my darling." She kisses him again, nuzzling her face against his and feeling him press a sticky kiss to her cheek, before grudgingly passing her son over to Graham's waiting arms. The man just nods jerkily at her before turning around and heading back into the house.

"Uncle Gwaham," Henry says almost scoldingly. Graham pauses, sucking on his teeth before tilting his head in Trina's direction.

"Emma would like it if you joined her at the station for her lunch break."

The door thuds shut and Trina plods back across the street and up her lawn, flushed with delight at the idea of a lunch date. First and foremost, however, she has a call to make. Moving into the living room, she grabs the notepad where she'd scrawled down a number and quickly dials it in, automatically coiling the wire around her finger as she waits. It rings for a long few moments before the person she's waiting for picks up.

"Good morning. This is Trina Decker calling..."

"Mrs. Deck— ah, _Ms._ Miller," he corrects himself quickly, and Trina feels a flush of relief at hearing her maiden surname again. "Yes, good morning. I assume you are calling about your papers?"

"Yes. Are they...?"

"All processed. I made sure to expedite it for you. You are now legally divorced, ma'am."

A solid weight lifts from her chest at the news of her release, her newfound freedom to make her life right again with her wife and son. The sorrow of ending her relationship with Tom is a more muted weight, an unavoidable ache that she will carry with her for the rest of her life, but one she can never regret. Not when she knows that the warmth and love in Emma and Henry's smiles will be worth every moment.

"Thank you," Trina murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as she cradles the phone to her ear. She exchanges a few more brief pleasantries with her lawyer before bidding him a good day, slumping back against the couch with a slow exhale. That's it. It's over. After a week of biting her nails and waiting on the divorce papers to go through, she can finally focus on getting her old life back.

The promise of a lunch date gives her the energy to bounce off the couch and hurry to her bedroom, spending the next few hours primping and perusing outfit combinations before she finally settles on a flowy cobalt sundress, the blue vibrant against sun-kissed skin. Her hair is fluffed, her makeup light, and her jewelry limited to a single hanging necklace that draws attention to the hint of cleavage at the teasing V of her neckline. Grabbing her keys, she hops into her car and drives down the now familiar route to the station, sliding into the spot next to Emma's beloved sunshine-yellow Volkswagen and all but skipping in through the main doors.

"Good afternoon," Belle chirps from the desk, smiling softly at Trina's obvious glow. The woman is happier than she's seen her in years, light and carefree in a way she hasn't been around Tom. There's something about Emma that brings out a whole new side to her friend, and as much as she does care about Tom, she cannot deny anything that seems to breathe life anew into Trina.

"Hi, Belle," Trina greets, leaning across the front desk to press a friendly kiss to the other brunette's cheek. "I'm here to have lunch with Emma."

"I figured as much. You never come all the way down here just for little ol' me," Belle teases, winking a blue eye as Trina slips past her and heads through the bullpen, cobalt dress fluttering cheerily around her calves with each peppy step.

"Hey Treen," Ruby calls from her desk, offering a hesitant smile that quickly grows as Trina changes direction and heads straight for her, arms open. Standing, the taller brunette happily accepts the hug, squeezing Trina firmly with a hum.

"I've missed you," Trina offers, hands still clasping Ruby's elbows when they pull back a little. She and Ruby have grown somewhat distant during the love-triangle-debacle, Ruby having taken Emma's side and avoided her in solidarity. It feels like it's been weeks since they've even really spoken.

"Missed you too, you vixen," Ruby chuckles, pressing a kiss to Trina's forehead. The shorter woman grins, russet eyes gleaming.

"We have to get together again sometime. All four of us! I miss you and Belle."

When Ruby wiggles an eyebrow, Trina gives a dirty chuckle.

"Not like that, you hound dog," she teases, voice full of mirth. "Emma's made an honest woman out of me."

"Well, that's a right shame. What Belle and I wouldn't do to have beauties like you and Emma in our bed!"

Trina slaps her on the chest and Ruby bursts out in laughter, dropping back down into her desk chair as Lily shuffles by and gives them both a reproving look.

"You know the bullpen isn't a public space, right, Decker?"

"It's Miller again, actually," Trina says without missing a beat, taking delight in the look of startled shock on Lily's face. "And I've a lunch date with the Chief."

"Trina," Emma's voice rings out across the bullpen just in time, sending Lily stalking off with a roll of her eyes. Trina turns, dress swirling around her legs, and both brown and green eyes brighten immeasurably at the sight of each other.

"Emma," Trina murmurs, a dreamy smile spilling across her features as she moves towards the Chief, oblivious to Ruby's amused snickers. "Hey."

"Hey." Emma grins stupidly, blind to everyone and everything but Trina. The cobalt blue dress pops against golden-olive skin and the pendant hanging between Trina's breasts reminds her of soft, intimately familiar curves hidden just beneath the fabric.

"You look beautiful."

"You look quite sharp yourself, Chief Swan," Trina purrs, hands lifting to tug at the crisp collar of Emma's dress shirt, her smirk widening at the quiet _"get a room"_ from somewhere behind them.

"I take it you came for that lunch date?" Emma asks somewhat shyly, her head dipping. Trina grins and nods, delighted when Emma promptly offers her arm. "Well then, shall we?"

 

 

Emma drives them to Granny's Diner in the Volkswagen, figuring something casual and fun would be a good first choice. The place is quiet as they just missed the lunch rush, slipping into a booth by a window and getting prompt service from Eugenia Lucas - Granny herself.

"Chief," the greying woman greets, her approving smile waning at the sight of who she dines with. There's a knowing look in her eyes, and though both women are wary, they're also unsurprised. Winnetka's a small town and nothing is ever a secret. "Mrs. Decker."

"Miss Miller, actually," Trina says for the second time that day, trying not to smile too widely when Emma perks up across the table. "The paperwork just went through today."

"So it's true then," Eugenia sniffs as Trina turns stiff and tense in her seat. "You divorced poor Tom after all that _swinging_ nonsense finally went south."

"Mrs. Lucas," Emma says in a quiet warning, frowning as the elder woman turns squinting, judgemental eyes on her. "Miss Miller's personal life is her own business."

"It would be if it didn't affect other people. She's not good company for you, Chief, just like she's been a bad influence in my Ruby's life."

"I've done nothing to Ruby," Trina says sharply, her hackles rising. "She and Belle are consenting adults and I care about them as my friends."

"I hope you aren't also insinuating anything about Ruby's preferences," Emma adds lowly, "because as Chief of Police, I will not tolerate such bigotry in my town."

"I've come to terms with Ruby's lifestyle," Eugenia defends, "But you're better than _this,_ Chief," she says, a hand flailing in Trina's direction. The brunette glares, her entire body tense as if wanting to lash out, but there's something hurt and uncertain in the way she clutches at the table and purses her lips, refraining from saying anything at all.

"That's quite enough, I think," Emma says, jumping out of the booth so suddenly that Eugenia is forced to stumble back a few steps. She holds out a hand to Trina and Trina gratefully accepts the tug out of her seat. "I won't be coming here again if you insist on being hateful to people I care about, Mrs. Lucas. Frankly, I'd check my attitude and consider a heartfelt apology if I were you; it's not smart to make an enemy of the Chief of Police. Come along, Miss Miller."

Emma strides purposefully from the diner with Trina in tow, ignoring the flabbergasted look on Eugenia's face on the way out. It's only when they're back at the Volkswagen around the corner that Emma stops, shoulders slumping as a long sigh escapes her lips.

"I'm sorry," she says with a puff of unhappy laughter. "That wasn't what I had in mind when I invited you out."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Trina offers, sliding into Emma's space and wrapping her arms around the blonde's trim waist, smiling as the loose embrace is returned. "Eugenia's never been my biggest fan. Her generation... well, a lot of people don't approve of my lifestyle."

When Emma blinks down at her, she quickly corrects, "My _old_ lifestyle. I don't do that anymore."

A small, uncertain smile is her answer. "That's... It's been a part of your life for a long time, Trina. I don't want to make you give up any part of your life just because—"

"Emma," Trina interrupts, pressing a finger to the blonde's lips. "I don't need to do that anymore, not when I have you."

Green eyes softening, Emma gently kisses the finger pressed to her lips. "Is that enough?" she mumbles, uncertainty in her gaze even as she tries her best to be understanding. Trina aches at the thought that Emma would willingly suffer a lifestyle she doesn't want just to make her happy.

" _You_ are enough," Trina says firmly, her finger sliding from Emma's lips to stroke her cheek. "You and Henry are all I want."

She leans in, rising up on tiptoes in the strappy white sandals she'd chosen for the day so that she can press a kiss squarely to Emma's mouth, not caring a whit about anyone who sees them standing right there in the parking lot in front of the diner. Melting in place, Emma wraps her arms more firmly around Trina's body and allows a persistent tongue entrance into her mouth, moaning softly as nails gently scratch at her scalp. They remain locked in place for a good long moment before reluctantly parting for air, Emma looking dazed and dreamy as Trina pins her with a smug smile.

"You're also immensely sexy when you defend me," the brunette purrs, which gets a startled laugh out of Emma.

"Duly noted. Now, since Granny's is out... How about we head back to your place and I make us lunch instead?"

"You can cook?" Trina asks, quirking a brow.

"Are you as terrible a cook as Regina was?" Emma retorts, to which Trina rolls her eyes good naturedly and beams at the effort Emma makes to respect her identity. Regina never had reason to pick up the skill, and though Trina's baking skills have finally reached a point where it's not a fire hazard, she's still a terror at cooking.

"Fair enough. Lead the way, dear."

 

 

Dating is an endeavor. They're good together, easy and natural in a way that no one else could ever be because only they have a shared past from another life, another world. But as Trina had said, this world isn't as open and accepting of swingers and non-heterosexuals, and Trina is well known to be both in a small town where people gossip and nothing is sacred. Emma's shining reputation as the beloved Chief of Police is somewhat tarnished as Winnetka's little population become aware of her budding relationship with the newly divorced resident swinger, but Emma insists she cares very little for what the town thinks and is always quick to correct anyone with an untoward opinion. Their friends support them wholeheartedly, though a few like Lily and Graham cannot help but watch them with looks of wary disquiet, as if forever waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As the weeks pass and they settle into a comfortable rhythm, Emma is the one to grow restless with yearning. Trina's been nothing but respectful of her request to go slow, but the woman also oozes sensuality in everything she does, and it's hard to resist throwing herself atop that deliciously familiar body every time Trina sways her hips or gives her that long, half-lidded smile.

"We should go somewhere," Emma blurts out one afternoon, splayed out on a sun lounger next to the Decker house pool while Trina bobs happily in the water nearby. Tom is on another one of his week-long flights to Tokyo and they'd taken advantage of the beautiful weather to get some sunlight and fresh air. Nearby on the grass, Henry sits in swim trunks, his hair wet from his earlier swim, playing with a multitude of plastic dinosaurs.

"Oh?" Floating towards her girlfriend and pushing Henry's discarded float-wings out of the way, Trina folds her arms atop the concrete edge and rests her chin on them, dark wet hair slicked back and dripping water. Emma watches each rivulet trickling down the side of Trina's neck with a dry swallow of her throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Emma admits, sitting up and feeling the new tightness of her skin from laying in the sun for an hour. She's starting to tan a light gold and Trina clearly likes it if the slow wandering of her gaze is any indication. "I just think it might be nice if we got away for a little while, just you and me. Belle and Ruby would love to babysit Henry and Graham can take care of the house alone for a long weekend..."

"Mmm." Setting her hands flat on the concrete, Trina pushed herself up and over the edge, stomach muscles clenching as she rises from the water and pads over to the loungers, water dripping freely from her body. Green eyes are glued to the little black and white bikini until Trina is looming over her, bending down to kiss her sweetly. "Tom and I own a lakeside cabin just a few hours out of town, we could go there for a weekend."

"Would he be okay with that?" Brow pinching, Emma gives her girlfriend a concerned look. Tom and Graham have kept up their bromance-friendship, but Emma has generally kept a polite distance from the man, not wanting to step on his toes any more than she already has, even if he does make a valiant effort to smile and nod every time they cross paths.

"Sweetheart, you're sitting on his lounger, in his yard, at his house," Trina says, smiling sympathetically when Emma looks like she wants to jump out of the chair with guilt. "He's a big boy, he won't begrudge us going to the cabin. He understands that my future is with you. Besides, the cabin is under my name."

"I just don't want to upset him further," Emma sighs, slumping in her seat. "I already stole his wife."

"Do I look like a possession?" Trina asks, one eyebrow lifting in amusement and not annoyance. Still, Emma backpedals, immediately looking sorry.

"No! I didn't mean—"

"Honey, you didn't steal me from anyone. I _chose_ to leave him, just as I _chose_ to be with you. Got it?"

Trina kisses her again, hard and possessive, and then cheerfully sashays off to go play with Henry, leaving a dazed and doe-eyed Emma sprawled out on the lounger.

 

 

Their cabin retreat happens just two weeks later. Graham sighs and grumbles and shrugs his shoulders when he's told he'll be home alone for the long weekend, and Tom is passive in his response, his hurt only noticeable to Trina who knows him well after a decade of marriage. Still, he smiles and hugs her and tells her to enjoy the trip, and she is forever thankful to still have him for a best friend.

Belle and Ruby are delighted when asked to babysit Henry for the weekend, and though Henry had thrown a tantrum at being left behind, he'd eventually relented and gave them his blessing, grudging as it was.

"Have fun, Mommies," he'd said when they'd dropped him off at Belle and Ruby's condo, each giving him a kiss. Burrowed into Trina's arms with his head tucked under her chin, they'd looked like the perfect picture of a mother and child, and Emma had shed a tear before catching herself. He'd been the happiest child alive when they'd finally sat him down to give a watered down explanation of their situation to him, and though their friends all continue to look surprised - thinking that the child had simply imprinted upon a new potential mother-figure in his life - Emma has no regrets. Her wife and son are reunited, and that's all that matters.

"It's crazy how much he looks like her," Ruby had murmured, watching them from the doorway while Belle chatted with Trina about the trip. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since Trina is a gorgeous Latina and looks similar to your late wife, but still."

"Yeah, crazy," Emma had agreed, and said no more.

 

 

The cabin is stunning. Acres of grassy, golden land all to themselves, flanked by green woods on one side and sand on the other, leading out onto an old wooden dock extending a ways over the lake. The Bug pulls onto the gravel driveway next to the cabin just after noon, Emma's eyes wide and intrigued as Trina watches her reaction with a smile.

"Wow," Emma says, slowly sliding out of the car. Trina hops out, already retrieving their bags from the boot and moving towards the front door, hips swaying as she glances over her shoulder.

"Coming?" she purrs, to which Emma jerks to attention and scampers after her like an eager puppy. "Get the keys for me, would you? It's in my right pocket."

Trina pauses by the door, smirking as Emma dips her fingers into the front right pocket of her jean shorts, fingers wiggling against her hip. When Emma comes up short, Trina feigns a pout.

"Oops. I mean my back pocket."

Emma grins, leaning in close to slide her hand down Trina's ass pocket instead, stroking the perfect globe for a moment before coming back up with the keys. "Found 'em."

She slides around Trina, unlocking the door and popping it open before helping the brunette carry their bags inside. The air is warm and a little stale, and she's quick to open all the windows to air it out while Trina moves their things into the bedroom. As soon as Trina returns to the main room, however, she's immediately swept up into Emma's arms and drawn into a long, deep kiss, the brunette humming happily as hands slowly slide down to cup her ass.

"Well, hello to you too," she teases softly, nipping at a pink lower lip when they come apart for air. Emma's pupils are large, almost eclipsing green as she stares down hungrily at Trina's smile. "You know, it's very hard to go slow when you look at me like that, darling..."

"Maybe I'm done going slow," Emma rumbles out, her chest heaving with deep breaths as her arms tighten around Trina's waist. "I miss the taste and feel of you. I want..."

"You want...?" Trina coaxes, her voice deepening with desire as she brushes their noses together. Emma's eyes flutter shut and she inhales deeply, jaw clenched, her entire body humming with anticipation.

"I want you, all of you," Emma husks, a soft plea. Trina groans, heat igniting low in her belly.

"Then take me," she murmurs. "I'm yours."

Those hands on her ass grab her under her thighs and lift her with ease, and she's suddenly being carried across the living room and into the bedroom, dropping softly onto the bed with Emma's welcome weight atop her. Fumbling with eager anticipation, they tug and pull at each other's clothing, the effort coming to a halting stop when Emma's hand finds its way into Trina's shorts and fingers caress an already swollen clit. Jerking up against the touch, Trina moans and pulls Emma down by the back of her neck, kissing her hard as those fingers rub insistently at her, demanding her first orgasm of the day. Already she can feel herself grow slick and slippery, Emma's fingers sliding effortlessly against her. Hips lifting from the bed, she grinds up against the pressure of Emma's hand with a soft whine for more, tilting her head up to gasp when those fingers dip lower and sheathe themselves within her in one sure stroke.

"Oh, yes," she hisses, fingertips digging into Emma's shoulders, urging her onwards. With her palm grinding against Trina's clit, Emma thrusts into her, her wrist aching at the awkward angle of having her hand confined in pants. It's all worth it when Trina chokes out a cry a moment later, jerking her hips up and grabbing onto Emma's wrist at the same time, refusing to let go until Emma has fingered her through her entire orgasm and into a second one. Trembling, she eventually falls limp, hands falling to the side as her stomach muscles twitch. Emma pumps her fingers a few more times for good measure, watching the way Trina shivers and whimpers, before gently extracting her hand and licking her own fingers clean.

"You've ruined my panties," Trina accuses, eyes narrowing playfully at the smug look on Emma's face. "Can you help me undress now, or are you still unable to control yourself?"

"I'm satisfied - for now." Still, she leans down to press an apologetic kiss to the brunette's lips before helping her wiggle out of her now damp shorts and absolutely soaked panties, delighting in the wet arousal coating the scrap of fabric. Trina clicks her tongue in disapproval and Emma just grins before tossing it somewhere across the room, peeling off her own clothes and then sliding in next to her lover with a contented sigh.

"Mm, roll over," Trina says, chuckling when Emma drapes over her and kisses at her collarbones. "Em-ma."

"Missed this," Emma mumbles, tongue laving at Trina's chest, teeth nipping at soft olive skin. Before she knows what's happening, she's suddenly thrown sideways and lands on her back, a weight settling on her hips.

"I don't think so," Trina says fiercely, her smoldering gaze so intense that Emma goes weak with desire beneath her. "It's long past my turn. You didn't let me reciprocate last time."

"But—"

Emma reaches needily for her and Trina pins her wrists down, smiling a wicked smile. "No. Now spread your legs, Miss Swan."

Moaning, Emma's thighs fall apart, her stomach clenching at the sight of Trina crawling down her body, a tongue peeking out to lick at red lips. She settles down on her stomach, arms curling around Emma's thighs as she kisses her abdomen, then the soft patch of blonde curls between Emma's legs. The scent of arousal is heady and strong from here, Emma's folds slick with desire, and Trina wastes no time taking her first taste of her lover, moaning softly against warm flesh.

"You taste even better than in my dreams," she husks, and Emma parts her lips in curiosity but promptly succumbs to a sigh of pleasure instead as that talented mouth descends on her in earnest, licking and sucking and teasing her to the precipice as if they've done this a million times before.

Emma isn't at all surprised when she comes minutes later with a choked cry, her hips jerking forward against Trina's face. She's still twitching and pulsing with desire when Trina pushes her back down and swiftly enters her with a finger, coaxing another delicious moan from her lips.

"T-Trina," she stutters, eyes squeezed shut as she instinctively clenches down on the single digit. "More. Please. Another."

Happily obliging, Trina wiggles another finger into her lover, leaning back down to suck a swollen clit into her mouth, tongue swirling teasingly around it as she pumps, slow at first, faster and harder as Emma ruts against her. Emma's head is thrown back, cords visible against her throat and golden hair splayed across the pillow. Her chest is thrust up, spine arched and thighs tensing over Trina's shoulders, and Trina can't resist reaching up with her free hand to squeeze and fondle a breast, a pink nipple growing painfully hard and erect against her palm.

"Gods, yes," Emma pants, rocking her hips along to their frantic rhythm, her skin already glistening with sweat. That familiar tightness is building up to an almost painful crescendo within her core and she can only clutch desperately at the now-damp sheets beneath them, knuckles turning white with the effort. One hand releases the sheets to burrow fingers into dark hair, holding Trina firmly between her legs as her insides tremble, moments away from shattering.

"Trina," she whimpers, desperate.

"Come for me, my love," Trina purrs against slick flesh.

Emma comes with a sharp cry, trembling legs tightening around Trina's head for a long moment as she's coaxed through her second orgasm before falling limp to the bed, twitching with each soft lick of Trina's tongue. The brunette is thorough in cleaning up every last drop of arousal before crawling back up the bed, snuggling in against Emma's side and pressing a kiss to her jawline. The blonde surprises her by curling in against her chest, face buried in the crook of her shoulder.

"Darling?" Trina murmurs, running her fingers through blonde waves. The warm wetness against her collarbone alerts her to the fact that Emma is crying. "Emma, sweetheart..."

"I'm sorry," Emma whispers roughly, lifting her head just enough to swipe at her tears. She doesn't want to cry, doesn't want to admit that _yes_ she knows this is Trina but it's been so _long_ since she's let anyone touch her and she can't help but see Regina right now, the same face and the same eyes and the same voice that moans her name. It's all too much in this moment, all too overwhelming, and she trembles and curls up tighter, swept up in a storm of guilt and mourning.

"Don't be sorry," Trina soothes, holding her close and letting Emma's tears drip down against her neck. One arm wraps securely around her body while the other hand gently combs through blonde hair, fingertips trailing along her scalp in a calming manner. She knows why her lover weeps, and somewhere deep inside, she instinctively knows how to respond. "I'm right here, my love. Trina, Regina. We're right here."

The trembling body sinks fully into her embrace, letting go at last, and Trina feels a sort of peaceful acceptance settle within her chest as their bodies fit together like two halves of a whole.

 

 

They're quiet when they eventually get out of bed, moving around each other with soft smiles and softer eyes. Emma unpacks groceries and Trina gets the fireplace ready for nightfall, retrieving quilted blankets from storage bins in the corner and pulling the white cloths off of the big, cozy looking couches. The cabin is quite spacious, all warm colors and dark wood, and the last rays of sunlight coming in through the open windows highlight a flurry of dust motes swirling lazily through the air. Emma is already preparing a light lunch in the kitchen when Trina finally rejoins her, hugging the taller woman from behind and peering over her shoulder as she works.

"Smells great," Trina says softly, lips pressing to the back of Emma's bare shoulder. The blonde is in a tight tanktop and jeans, her feet bare against the warm hardwood flooring and toes wiggling happily.

"Tacos," Emma offers over her shoulder with a sweet smile, eyes crinkling. "I hope you like it spicy."

They enjoy lunch at the kitchen island, leaning against each other with light conversation, Trina sneaking squirts of hot sauce into Emma's tacos and laughing when the blonde turns red, coughing and spluttering because _Okay, I get it, you have a higher tolerance - I'm white, bite me!_ (And Trina _does_ bite her, of course, which only leads to another bout of kissing and fondling.)

They wash the dishes together, soap suds flying between them, and spend most of the afternoon curled up on the couch with a book, Trina reading and Emma bobbing her head along gently to the brunette's soothing tones. The world moves at a much more leisurely pace out here when it's just the two of them, quiet and relaxed, with nothing but the gentle splash of ducks in the lake and the chirp of birds in the trees surrounding them.

As afternoon slowly turns to evening, Emma decides to make a simple spaghetti bolognese. Or rather, she decides to teach _Trina_ how to make spaghetti bolognese, which really just turns the entire endeavor into a game of teasing touches and not-so-accidentally smearing sauce on each other as an excuse to lick it off. With the sauce finally on a low simmer and the pasta cooling in a colander, Emma leans against the counter with a lazy grin, wiping her hands off on a dish towel and then basketball-tossing it into the sink.

"And now you know how to make a staple pasta dish," she says cheerfully, grin widening as Trina pins her against the counter with her own hips, arms encircling her shoulders. The slightly shorter woman's eyes are dark, eyelids at half mast in a come-hither expression that sends a skitter of excitement up Emma's spine. "You're... a very good student."

"And you're an excellent teacher." Leaning up, Trina nibbles at a soft lower lip, her chest warming at the happy little hum it causes. Gripping Emma by the hips, she gives the woman a slight push against the counter's edge. "Up, dear."

Obeying without question, Emma hops up onto the countertop, opening her mouth willingly to a plundering tongue as Trina nestles herself between her thighs and pulls her in. Trina's hands slide down, popping the button on Emma's jeans before tugging demandingly on them. She pulls back with a smirk to admire the bulge of Emma's biceps as she lifts her ass from the counter long enough for Trina to pull her jeans and panties all the way down, abandoning them somewhere on the kitchen floor. With them out of the way, Trina lifts long legs over her shoulders, happily settling herself between the blonde's soft thighs.

"I hope you don't mind," the brunette purrs, hands sliding up the muscular plane of Emma's washboard abs, disappearing beneath tanktop and bra to fondle at small, pert breasts. "I do so love having dessert before dinner."

Emma laughs, a laugh that turns into a choked little sound when a warm and wet tongue prods at her entrance. Gripping the edge of the counter, Emma groans, staring down dazedly at the brunette head bobbing softly between her legs. That wicked tongue teases at her, prodding here and there, grazing her clit before returning to her entrance, pushing in just a little deeper each time, never staying long enough where she wants it.

"Trina," she huffs, hips twitching, seeking more contact. Trina chuckles, a low and dirty sound that vibrates against wet flesh, and Emma gives a little yelp and instinctively thrusts forward against the stimulus, nearly tipping off the counter if not for Trina's shoulders keeping her thighs up. "Babe, please..."

She outright _whines_ when Trina lifts her head to lift a brow at her, lips glistening with arousal.

"Oh, god..."

"Babe?" Trina repeats, amusement gleaming in her eyes. She tugs on a pink nipple and Emma jumps, chest pushing up into fondling hands.

"Sweetheart?" Emma tries pitifully, feeling herself clench around nothingness and craving a tongue or fingers. "Honey? Darling?"

"Mm, keep trying."

"Trina..." Emma whimpers, hooking a hand around the back of Trina's neck to pull her close and kiss her hard, moaning into a hot mouth as the brunette squeezes and fondles her breasts a little harder. Panting, she pulls back just a little, green eyes fluttering open to meet russet brown. The warmth in them is too easy to drown in, all tender love and awe-inspiring devotion, playfulness and smug happiness. They're the exact same eyes she'd stumbled across at the edge of a forest, the same eyes she'd stared into as they'd shyly made love for the first time, the same eyes that smiled back at her on their wedding day.

"Love of my life," Emma murmurs, lips caressing Trina's with the words. Trina broaches the remaining distance and kisses her again, soft and tender this time, just lips sliding against lips. Their fiery passion turns into a slow simmer, in no rush as they press together and brush kisses along lips, jaws, noses, eyelids. Trina slides a hand between them, two fingers slipping into her lover, and Emma moans hotly into her mouth, spine arching as she's filled.

"Mine," Trina whispers, hips rocking along to each gentle thrust, and Emma wraps her legs around Trina's waist and tightens her arms around Trina's shoulders with breathy little sighs of pleasure, her heart nearly full to bursting.

"Yours," she agrees, moments before she comes all over Trina's pumping fingers with a shudder, slumping into her lover's arms and smiling as damp hair is brushed from her forehead.

They clean up and redress for dinner, indulging in a playful game of footsie as they eat at the humble little dining table by the window. The brunette is adamant about taking care of the dishes herself, insisting Emma relax and watch some television, so the blonde relents with a laugh, grabbing a beer from the fridge on her way out, as well as a couple brownie squares from one of the many Tupperware containers they'd brought with them for the weekend.

When Trina finally emerges in the living room with a glass of wine for herself, Emma is sprawled out sideways on the couch, head stretched out over the armrest to peer at her with big eyes.

"Hi," Emma whispers.

"Darling," Trina says, bemused. "Why are you whispering?"

Green eyes blink slowly at her. "You're so pretty." An arm lifts up, hand reaching out in her direction, fingers wiggling. "C'mere."

Rounding the couch, Trina sets her wine glass down on the coffee table and perches on the edge of the couch, a hand rubbing at Emma's hip as the blonde happily grabs onto her fingers.

"Are you alright?" Trina questions, amused but baffled at the blonde's somewhat dazed state. When Emma just hums and pulls her hand closer to kiss at her knuckles, she leans in to take note of dilated pupils. "Emma?"

"Those brownies might be expired," Emma says conversationally, still kissing and playing with Trina's hand. "I feel funny."

"Oh, sweetheart," Trina can't help but laugh. Of course Emma helped herself to a treat. "Those are pot brownies. I was going to share them with you a little later. How many did you have?"

"Mmm. Three? They tasted good though!"

That's more than she would have suggested if Emma had never tried edibles before, but her lover seems fine at the half hour mark so far.

"How do you feel?"

Emma scrunches her face and sets a hand on her stomach. "Buzzy."

Smiling fondly, Trina brushes a strand of golden hair from the other woman's forehead, tucking it behind her ear as Emma leans into the touch. "Anything else?"

"Heart's beating harder..." Emma blinks, then grins up at her. "But it always does that around you."

"Flatterer." Leaning down, Trina presses an affectionate kiss to Emma's forehead. "My high, silly darling. Maybe you should sleep it off."

"No! I'm fine. Don't gooo." Emma whines softly, clutching Trina's hand to her chest as the older woman watches her in amusement. "I wanna do something with you. Let's..."

Green eyes search the cabin's main room desperately before landing on a pack of cards on a side table.

"Let's play poker!"

Glancing at the cards, Trina lifts a brow and chuckles. "Poker?"

Emma's grin turns feral. "Strip poker."

 

 

And that's how Emma ends up perched on the couch in nothing but her underwear, with Trina fully dressed and sitting regally on the armchair like it's a throne, smirk in place and eyes gleefully roaming her lover's exposed body.

"If we had chips, I'd raise," Trina says, tapping her downturned cards against her thigh. Emma, still high as a kite, narrows her eyes dramatically.

"You're bluffing."

Leaning forward and purposefully squeezing her breasts between her arms so that Emma's gaze zeroes in on them, Trina smirks. "Then show me your cards."

Tilting her chin up, Emma tosses her cards face-up onto the table. "Two Pair."

Trina tosses her cards down. "Three of a kind. Bra, please."

"You have to be cheating!" Emma whines, sitting back with a groan. "How have you won every single round?"

"Not true," Trina reminds her, amused. "I took off my cardigan. Now if you would be so kind..."

She gestures at Emma's breasts with a lick of her lips and Emma huffs, snapping off her bra and tossing it across the table. Trina catches it with a victorious grin.

"All in?" Trina asks, snatching up all the cards and shuffling them skillfully atop the table in plain view. Emma scrutinizes her anyway, lower lip jutted out into a pout and her forehead scrunched.

"Well, seeing as I have nothing left except my panties... Yeah, all in."

"Excellent. I do so love it when the stakes are high." Trina holds out the stack of cards, letting Emma cut the deck, then sets five face-down on the table and doles out two cards each. Her poker face is absolutely unreadable when she glances at her own cards, then motions at Emma. Reaching over, Emma flips the first three cards on the table, then compares them with her own hand.

"I hope you're ready to strip," Emma purrs, her lips spreading into a gleeful smile.

"Someone's confident in their hand," Trina notes, motioning at the table again. "I'll raise you a strip-tease."

Emma flips the fourth card over to reveal a red Ten of hearts. "Ooh. Even better. I'll raise you a lap dance."

"Deal." Trina gives an impatient flick of her hand. Emma flips over the last of the cards on the table. A red King of hearts. "Sure you don't want to fold, dear?"

"And miss out on a naked lap dance from you? Not in this world or any other, my Queen." Emma tosses her hand face-up onto the table, grinning victoriously at the abundance of red hearts among all the cards, as well as the pretty blush on Trina's cheeks. "Flush."

Despite her momentary fluster at Emma's term of endearment—and she won't lie, ' _my Queen'_ is one she'll gladly steal from Regina—Trina's smug smirk is still firmly in place when she leans forward, tossing her cards face-up onto the table.

A red Ace of hearts and a red Queen of hearts.

" _Royal_ Flush."

Emma looks immediately sober, green eyes zeroed in on the cards in disbelief. Her mouth is agape, eyes flickering between the cards and Trina, silent for a very long moment before finally—

"A _Royal Flush._ Of-fucking-course." She puffs out a laugh before groaning into her hands, appalled at her poor luck. And here she thought she was _good_ at Texas Hold 'em. Maybe her coworkers were just shit at poker and falsely boosted her confidence.

"I believe I'm owed a naked lap dance," Trina purrs, sitting back in her armchair with her fingers steepled together, the most smug grin plastered on her face. Emma parts her fingers to peer at her through the gaps, sheepish.

"I... don't actually know how to do a lap dance."

"Then I suppose you'll have to find another way to pay up, dear..." Trina lifts a hand, beckons her closer with a crook of her finger, and Emma is drawn immediately, sliding from the couch onto her knees to crawl the short distance to the armchair where her lover resides like royalty.

"These can go," Trina purrs, uncrossing her legs to brush against Emma's panties with painted toes. The blonde puffs out a breathless laugh, shimmying her panties off and then sitting back on her heels, staring up devotedly at her, chest heaving with anticipation.

"What can I do to... make it up to you?" Emma leans closer, hands ghosting their way up shapely calves, up over Trina's knees and then inching their way up her thighs. The brunette leans back, legs parting, arms still braced along the armrests like she's sitting on a throne.

"You could put that pretty mouth of yours to work," she suggests coyly, eyes lidded, as Emma's hands disappear beneath the hem of her summer dress to remove her underwear... only to realize that Trina isn't _wearing_ any.

"Oh," she breathes out softly, green eyes dilated. Trina smirks.

"Something the matter?"

"No," Emma rumbles, breathing in deeply, lashes fluttering as the heady scent of arousal. "Not at all."

Pushing the dress up to Trina's hips, Emma dips her head and swipes at slick folds with an eager tongue, arms encircling tanned thighs as Trina arches towards her with a husky groan. Blonde hair is gathered up in one of Trina's hands, tugged lightly as if she were holding the reins of a trusty steed, and Emma's licking and sucking only gets more excited at the sting of pain mixing with their pleasure. When her lover's tugging gets more persistent, she pushes her tongue into Trina's entrance, clinging on harder as the other woman's spine arches at the welcome intrusion. The warm, wet muscle wiggling its way inside her has Trina's head dropping back along the top of the armchair, her fingers tightening in blonde hair as she holds Emma's head firmly between her legs, hips rocking against her lover's face.

"Oh, right there," she rasps, flutters starting deep within her core, pleasure trickling from her belly to her spine, a coil of promising tension. "Mmm, Emma... _Fuck."_

The profanity sends a shock of heat straight to the apex of Emma's thighs and she moans into slick flesh, the resulting vibration tipping Trina into pleasurable bliss, crying out softly as her thighs tighten around a blonde head. That warm, persistent tongue doesn't let up and she continues rocking her hips, Emma licking her into a second orgasm before she's finally pushed away with trembling hands.

"Gods," Trina laughs shakily, legs limp and twitching as Emma licks her lips clean and rests her cheek against Trina's inner thigh, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Did I do good?" Emma asks sweetly, green eyes soft and bright like a puppy seeking approval. Trina reaches down to cup her cheek, drawing her up for a loving kiss.

"Mm, you did so good. My good girl..." Tasting the lingering hint of herself on Emma's lips, Trina hums and slides her hands down along Emma's neck and chest, tweaking at erect pink nipples as the blonde writhes a little in her grasp.

"Ah." Green eyes flutter as Emma moans, catching Trina's wrists in her hands. "God, I'm so tingly and sensitive right now. Everything feels so..."

She trails off, dazed, and Trina softens at that, gently pulling her wrists from Emma's grasp to stroke at her lover's hair in a soothing manner. The blonde leans heavily into her, humming in content at the affectionate touch.

"It's been a couple hours, I'm sure you're really feeling it now. If you don't want to sleep it off, we could go for a dip in the lake instead. The water's freshing."

"Yeah?" Emma perks up, her spine straightening, and Trina's eyes drop for just a moment to admire pert nipples before she reminds herself to make eye contact.

"Mm. Did you bring a swimsuit?"

Green eyes narrow playfully. "What do I need a swimsuit for? I'm already naked."

Standing, Emma pads to the door, her movements languid as she glances over her shoulder at Trina's hungry stare. "Coming?"

Jumping up, Trina strips in record time, hurrying to follow after her coy lover. By the time she makes it outside and steps onto the grass, Emma is already thigh-deep in the water, her blonde hair gleaming in the bright moonlight.

"Brrr! It's a little cold." Despite the shiver running up her spine, Emma turns around and walks backwards further into the lake, the little thatch of blonde hair at the apex of her legs disappearing beneath the water. "You coming?"

"Well someone has to make sure you don't drown," Trina teases with a roll of her eyes, but there's no denying the husk in her voice as she wades in after Emma, like a sailor drawn out to sea by a siren's tantalizing song. Emma's arms are open and waiting, curling around her once she steps into the welcome embrace, their body heat mingling between their bodies even as they continue to essentially waddle out into the lake.

"It's cold," Emma mentions again, laughing even as she shivers briefly. The night air is still warm with the season and her quickly-sobering brain is yelling at her to jump out of the cool water and flee for land, but nothing is going to stop her from cuddling her affectionate lover no matter where they're standing. Chests pressed together, she can feel Trina's stiff nipples pressing against her own, their bodies rebelling against the temperature.

"Are you still _buzzy?"_ Trina teases, reaching down to cup water in both palms and lightly splashing them up at Emma's back. The blonde jumps, squealing and flailing as the movement only serves to splash more cold water against their bodies, and the huskiest, most delicious laugh escapes her brunette lover, making her go still with awe. Bathed in the soft blue moonlight, Trina looks absolutely divine - ethereal, even. Warm russet eyes gleam with affection and the soft lines at the edges of her eyes and mouth are more noticeable when she's scrubbed free of makeup, a passionate woman aging with effortless grace.

"I love you," Emma blurts out, and it's the first time she's said it to Trina, the words rusty but so _right_ on her tongue. Trina goes still, eyes searching the depths of hers, lips parted in surprise, and Emma nearly gasps at the warmth bubbling up within her chest at how perfect this all feels. Like the universe has finally settled into place. "I love you, Trina."

Blinking back tears, Trina leans forward to press their foreheads together, noses brushing, breath hot against lips. "I love you, too," she whispers, feeling the gentle tightening of Emma's arms around her body, every inch of their skin tingling where they touch. She kisses her, soft and chaste, just lips sliding tenderly against lips. The water lapping at their waists is cold, a stark contrast to the heat simmering within her chest and stomach both, and she starts to pull Emma backwards towards the shore.

Calves hitting the edge of a lounge chair, Trina sits back and pulls Emma atop her, relishing in the weight and warmth of her lover straddling her hips. Hands grip at hip bones, fingers digging into soft flesh, gently raking down pale thighs and pulling them tighter. Slick warmth presses against her lower abdomen and she moans, sliding her hands back up and around to grab Emma's ass and coax her into movement, urging the blonde to roll her hips against her. Gasping into Trina's mouth, Emma rocks against her, smearing herself against the brunette's stomach. They lay back along the lounge chair, rocking and undulating together, until Trina snakes one hand between them and sheathes her fingers within clinging heat, watching with lidded eyes as Emma's head tips back and a soft cry of pleasure escapes her throat.

"You're so beautiful," Trina murmurs, fingers thrusting, slow and deep, using her hips to push up into her panting lover. Emma rolls her hips and shudders above her, her rhythm falling apart as she milks those talented fingers almost desperately, muscles clenching every time she's filled. A familiar tension coils at the base of her spine and she nearly sobs, trying to hold off as long as she can—but Trina's thumb slides persistently against her slippery clit and her spine snaps taut a moment later, crying out sharply as an orgasm rips through her body like lightning. Her hips thrust frantically into those pumping fingers for a long few seconds, drawing out every delicious ripple of her orgasm before her limbs start trembling, turning weak and boneless from pleasure. Slumping forward, Emma tucks her face into the crook of Trina's neck and shoulder, whimpering as those wicked fingers continue pumping into her ever so gently, causing her to twitch weakly in her arms.

"T-Trina," she pleads, moaning as her abdominal muscles quiver and clench, hips jerking up with every thrust. She's sensitive beyond measure, this close to being rendered a sobbing mess of arousal, but her body continues to respond to Trina's touch like a finely tuned instrument.

"Again," Trina murmurs, cradling Emma close as the blonde trembles against her. "Please?"

Her answer is a gentle bite to the neck, Emma's teeth closing around warm flesh and leaving a fresh hickey before she releases Trina with a strangled gasp. A rush of fluid gushes out over her hand and Emma goes limp atop her with a breathy whimper, her body heavy with bliss and exhaustion.

"There's my girl," Trina murmurs, easing her fingers out while stroking at blonde hair with her other hand, smiling at the way Emma nuzzles into the intimate space between her neck and shoulder, settling happily against her lover with nary a care in the world.

They lay together for a long while, Emma's warm breath even against Trina's damp skin, olive hands gently stroking up and down a pale spine. Their bodies cool down despite the warm air and they eventually stand and head back inside in silent agreement, slipping into a quiet bath together to wash off the lake water and sweat. Dried off, warm and naked, they slide into bed for the night, their bodies touching from head to toe, limbs so tangled that it was impossible to tell them apart.

"Trina?" Emma's voice is soft and hoarse in the dark, rough from a full day's worth of being vocal in the throes of passion. Trina smiles sleepily at the knowledge that she is responsible for it.

"Yes, darling?"

The term of endearment warms Emma's chest. Regina called her that all the time, and Trina's use of it has only grown the longer they are together.

"Would you..." Her voice cracks and she clears her throat, a trickle of nervousness slipping through. Trina brushes a stray strand of hair from her forehead and gives her a sleepy, encouraging smile, eyes gleaming in the pale moonlight. "Would you consider marrying again?"

There's a pause, Trina blinking slowly before comprehension dawns on her features. Where Emma fears potential rejection, Trina's lips just twitch in amusement.

"Are you proposing to me, Wife?"

The tease has Emma turning pink with embarrassment, coaxing a low chuckle from the brunette. "I meant—"

"I know," Trina says, kissing her on the nose and causing Emma to scrunch her face. "I know what you meant, Emma. And when you're ready—" because she knows that despite Emma bringing the topic up, she's the one who will still need time, "I would be honored to legally marry you here, in this world."

Green eyes are bright, hopeful and happy and forever grateful for Trina's patience and understanding. Resting a hand over Emma's heart, Trina adds, "Just know that in my heart, you and Henry are already my family. In our last world, in this world, and in the next."

Emma kisses her, deep and passionate and thorough, until both are heaving and panting for air, lips bruised and cheeks flushed.

"I love you," Emma whispers, eyes crinkled with a smile that could light up the world. Trina melts into their tangled embrace, wondering how she could have ever been so lucky to find her beloved across worlds.

"And I you, my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed a writer's soul. Tell me what you thought of the chapter! *Was the smut good? Did I do good? ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Update: Yes, I'm still here. No, this story is not abandoned. I work in the film and TV industry so sometimes I get really busy, but I promise this fic WILL be finished eventually. In the meantime, feel free to follow me on social media to get updates, check that I'm still alive, and see other artwork and goodies I may post! I'm planning on doing a few SwanQueen giveaways on social media soon! ;D
> 
> Twitter @RealNikiFrost  
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> DeviantArt as "NikiFrost"  
> And you can also friend me on Facebook! Message me with a hello; I don't bite! Unless you want me to, anyway. ;)  
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